Knee-deep in Oxytocin

Beginnings — part 2 June 30, 2009

He met me at the airport.

We embraced, said the traditional helloo, awesome to meet you, et cetera, and then he poked me. “You… you are real,” he said. Why yes. Yes, I am. He was not at all what I’d expected; his big, bad Internet persona was just that–a persona. I found myself not at all physically attracted to him (a stark contrast to the online fraternization only months prior), but still I enjoyed his company and knew I was going to have an amazing summer.

He took me to my new house, where we met the ‘mates and I settled in. It was all in all a very awkward experience. There was drama floating over the heads of the girls I’d be staying with, and we all had our doubts and worries. One girl in particular was able to set me at ease. I was her sugarmama; the deal had been that I pay her rent while she was away, earning my stay while allowing her to keep her room. Upon meeting her I felt an instant attraction. She was one of those people you could follow around and just listen to for hours. Her personality was magnetic, and when she spoke I felt an urgency to listen carefully for fear of missing out on something profound. I relished our conversations, and as my mind expanded, my soul relaxed. The stage was unfolding.

One night, within the first week of my stay, the ‘mates and I had a small gathering–a party, if you will. We all ended up completely trashed (and for the record, I am in my early twenties, so it was quite legal). The intoxicated me is… not very calculating? Ha. Not at all. I have the tendency to drunk dial/text people when I’ve got liquor in me. Aaand, I texted Scott (the boy): “Cjome over asflkjalgj! im kinda not sober, come ov’erlkas and lets have sex!” or… something of the sort. He explained he had to work in the morning. I pestered, “whats more important, work or sex?” He called, I giggled… and then he popped in with, “I’m on my way over, just fyi.” I stopped giggling. “I was joking! I’m not really going to have sex with you!” He said he wasn’t expecting sex, only that he needed to get out of the house…

So he came by. I was still, how you say, pretty shitfaced. I waddled down the street towards him, giggled, babbled like an intoxicated person… We watched movies the rest of the night. Intoxication, while making me silly and uncoordinated, also has the tendency to heighten my libido, and heightened libido mixed with lowered inhibition is always a sure sign of trouble. But that night I remained a good girl, and we slept on separate couches.

Next day, 100% sober, I followed him to his house. This is where things began to get really interesting…

And, finally, I can talk about SCIENCE!

Beginnings June 30, 2009

It seems silly to me now, but I feel I’ve got to write, to get these feelings out into the open where they can be analyzed… so I can feel the detachment I so desperately need, the feeling of being in control. This is a game I am not at all comfortable playing, yet I feel compelled…

We met on the Internet. Kind of a skeezy place on the Internet, come to think of it, but I was laid up in bed with a broken limb and a mending heart, and I was feeling bold. I messaged him, a simple “hi” and a pat on the back, well wishes, and that was that. We conversed occasionally, but it was always exceedingly casual. I was, at the time, experimenting with phone sex and webcam stuff with a friend across the country–I needed an outlet for the intoxicating, infuriating, soul-crushing tsunami of frustration that strummed my every fiber after a long summer of an inability to walk (broken limb) and a terminated source of income (due to said broken limb) combined with the crushing rejection from a boy I thought I loved, who I thought loved me. I was hurt, and as a result, I acted out, I strove to change the person I’d been into something better, faster, stronger–an ice queen of steel. Which I am. Ha! Also, having lost my virginity I found it suitable to better express myself sexually; thus the “fraternization” with various online personas (to be fair, I had known this phone sex boy for upwards of seven years, so he was not a random stranger).

One night we’d had a particularly ferocious fraternization. Involving a werewolf. Raping me. Yes, yes, think what you will, but it was hot, and his voice was excruciatingly stimulating. It took awhile, but I came, and to this day I still mark that as the greatest orgasm I have ever had. Ever. I felt the warmth, the swell of comfort, the happy, giddy high from an influx of oxytocin (this an important hormone–I shall explain in a later entry). We said goodnight, and I fell asleep, smiling… and in the morning, I still felt the effects, powerful as ever. I noticed a note on the profile of my friend’s page (the first person mentioned, not werewolf boy) with a phone number and the text, “Send me weird text messages! I love them!” I grinned to myself. Oh, hell yes. I most certainly will.

So I sent: “I’m still flying from an orgasm last night involving a werewolf and me, dictated by a nerd on the phone…”

Reply: “I think I just came.”

And it went on. Several texts later I dropped the hint that his mysterious texter was, in fact, me. Checked online, and there was a message waiting, with one sentence: “Fyi… I love you.” Ha!

The doors were opened. I sent him pictures, he reciprocated, and it was fun! It was always very casual, the sending of pictures, the discussing of our sex lives, fantasies, what have you. Somewhere along the lines, however, we began discussing deeper issues. Long emails were sent back and forth regarding psychology, self-identity, life histories… his advice was always sound, and he was more than willing to read paragraphs of my rantings and confusion. The tables turned, and he found within me a loyal friend. The naughty pictures ceased, and we assumed a platonic relationship. I was boggled to find how quickly the friendship had formed–I had only known him a couple months, and already I considered him to be in my top ten closest friends. Conversely, I was in his “inner circle” as well.

Now, as an undergrad of science, I needed an internship pertaining to my major. I was sick of my state. As much as I loved it, I needed to get out, to do something different. I craved adventure. My goal was to find an internship elsewhere, somewhere I would have the chance to meet and hang with people I’d known from the Internet. I don’t know why I decided upon this, but I deliberately looked for places in my friend’s state, hoping to meet up with him, thinking he’d be a great person to hang out with on my days off. I found an opportunity, applied, and was accepted with flying colors. I was in. The thing I still don’t understand, however, is the fact that I had set in my mind that I was going there, even if the internship opportunity failed. I would go and work. Anything, anything to be in the area with this person I had never met and wasn’t even in that strong of a friendship with. Perhaps the issue had to do with wanting to be out of my comfort zone, escaping my home for awhile, just once trying something new. Anyway, internship happened, and I found some people off of Craigslist to room with. I said, “To hell with it, adventure-ho!” and popped out.

Plane landed at 5:13 pm. And here begins the real story.