After Physics, New Zealand and I are walking down the C floor:

NZ: "So, I got a lead in one of the plays."

Me: "Really? Fabulous. Who do you play?"

NZ: "(Name of some character), he's a pirate."

Me: "That's awesome. Pirates are sexy." (There you have it. The first of many phrases telling him he's sexy. I was rather surprised, really. I never thought I'd tell him that.)

NZ: "Pirates aren't sexy!"

Me: "I beg to differ; you clearly have never seen Pirates of the Caribbean."

NZ: "Ahh..."

Me: "Johnny Depp has some major sex appeal. He has my permission to shove me into a janitor's closet and do what he wishes."

NZ: "Really?" (Somewhat surprised, also. I've never been this open or nice to him; I'm typically very, very, very unapproachable. That's the way I usually prefer it.) "But I could never be that sexy."

*this is where I became a little irritated. He knew exactly what was coming. He knew it! He knew it, and in my moment of flustered weakness he made me confess! It was completely intentional, I could sense it. He knew exactly what I was going to say, and loved every second of it!

Me: "Actually, one of my friends and I were talking about you the other day. If we slapped some Gucci onto you, there would be some major sexiness going on."

THERE! I SAID IT, AND BECAME REDDER WITH EVERY STRAINED SYLLABOL! Are islanders always this cruel? I hated this loss of control. I was in control of what I was saying, and I could have agreed with the lie that I don't think he's sexy. Of course I could of, but it was as if I had a duty to him to tell him this. So in silent yet vocalized compliance I performed, defenseless and vulnerable. This isn't me; I should be manipulating, lying, destroying, plowing my way to what I want. What is this madness? This will never work.

I now hate New Zealand. I have a duty to no one, especially a male that at one point in time liked me. Nobody owns me, controls me, there is no one I am in debt to.

You know, when I'm too emotionally involved or flustered, I'm afraid I don't write well. We'll have to change the subject...

So I go the lead role in one of the 5 plays. It turns out I am the new Psycho mom for "mother's party". I landed a killer part, and cannot wait. The reading today went wonderfully, and it turns out my husband in the play is charming, too. Scruffy, can't dress, needs to shave, but has endless potential. Why am I so drawn to this type? It must be the need I feel to save the world, one un-bathed scruffian at a time. Hence New Zealand, I suppose. My husband, I forgot his name, has amazing facial structure, pretty eyes, and perfect skin (of course). He's a drama guy, though, which pretty much sums up his personality; crazy, tactless, odd, yet sweet and charming. All I need to do is GQ him, and all will be well.

Dang. I'm such a relentless flirt. Dearest reader, you have no idea. It doesn't matter- man or woman, beautiful or decrepit, rich or, (well, in this case, wealth does affect my ability to butter-up others), but it doesn't matter much. Maybe there is some truth in this "You led me on and manipulated me" rubbish I hear so often. No matter- I can just deny this until I score a rich 80 year old.

And yet I can't attract anyone decent. I suppose this does synchronize with the other bitter ironies that are my life, but I can't just accept this. Honestly, this isn't going to work. The men (or women) that are attracted to me fall into the three following categories:

1. Sweet and considerate, yet not pretty or suave. (Ex: Drama guy. New Zealand [he’s pretty and suave in his own way, but not polished])
2. Beautiful and suave, but always have the following two flaws in common:
I. Usually claiming an IQ equivalent to that of a soap dish or lower
II. Sees my body as a stand with a large banner stating "Get sex here".
(Ex: Kuy [you'll get to know him later], Sexy idiot that models with me at my agency, The Russian I met in June, etc.)
3. Adores me to no end, and I adore them also, but I am at a position in which it simply is not possible in any form or way. With my mother, it is quite easy to have people fall into this category. (Ex: Kyle, Thomas, and one person in particular that I'm afraid I can't mention, just incase my mom hears me thinking it. [as she is so prone to doing])

Because no person falling in any of these categories is even seen as playing ground in my eyes, I'm completely out of luck. I'm not too happy about this; I do, after all, desire to get married someday. And since I'm sticking to this whole chastity thing, It looks like I'll be a virgin serving Vestia unless my luck changes. And if I'm not still beautiful when my luck finally does decide to change, I'll still be a virgin serving Vestia my entire life. Rather bleak, wouldn't you say?

I have a trig test tomorrow, though I really don't want to study (a new emotion, I know). I'm also cooking dinner tonight, so I must get started on that. Farewell, dear reader. Please don’t become sickened by this pity party I decided to have. At least I invited you in some way or another…