Can Sluts Find Love?

Rough week. I went out on Monday night and got hammered with some friends and bumped into this guy I boned when I was 18 outside the bar when I was smoking. (As one does on a Monday night…out of work comedian) He's absolutely beautiful, amazing bod, pillow lips, a dick that just won't quit but the dude is psychotic of course. Of course something so beautiful has to be so crazy and poor. Like Charles Manson…or Africa. I don't ever go for rich guys, usually I just go for ones who pay me the slightest bit of attention and that I feel deep connections with (in my cervix.) There’s something to be said for poor guys. If rich guys could fuck as good as poor one’s…I’d have a nickel. They make me feel like a big-breasted Italian peasant girl making love in a vat of grapes or something (careful, that batch of Chianti might have hepatitis.) I would love a rich husband and hope I can find one one day. I've already kind of resigned myself to living a loveless existence based on my track record, so I might as well live in a 18 bedroom mansion and ride private jets to my manicure appointments and enjoy a pill habit and plastic surgeons. Anyway, This dude used to stalk me. Used to make presents out of garbage and leave them at my door. He used to wait for me outside my work. He used to call me baby Monroe because I reminded him of a young modern version of Marilyn which was actually a nice compliment even though she was a bi polar mess, but I’ll take it. He made me a lamp out of paper mache once which was a pink triangle with the words baby Monroe written on it. I thought it was ridiculous, baby Monroe written on the Nazi symbol for homo? What ever happened to jewelry! Anyway somehow, I don't remember how, I got rid of him and moved on. Then 2 years ago I saw him again in a bar waiting in line for the bathroom. He grabbed me put his arms around my waist and pulled me into his throbbing manhood, planted a big wet kiss on me and said I’m never letting you go EVER! I was with my girlfriend and while he was in the bathroom we grabbed our coats and high tailed it out of there and ditched him. So cut to this past Monday I’m outside smoking and I see him, he looked GOOD. Tall, tanned, lazy and full of cum. Once again he wrapped his arms around me picked me up swung me around kissed me and told me he was "never letting me go again, I can't believe I'm seeing you! Do you understand bro" never trust a man who calls you bro, "we were meant to be together! The planets and stars are aligning! You don't bump into a person like this you are MINE and I am NEVER LETTING YOU GO!" I mean this is Manhattan, I see Pauly Shore twice a year on line for the bathroom! Not a big island! But I gotta be honest, I have been feeling exceedingly lonely lately and here is this man who is spinning me around and snuggling his head in my chest and holding me tight and professing his undying love for me just when I need it the most! I'd be lying if I told you the thought of accepting this man's proposal for an instant relationship didn't cross my mind. Then the night progresses, my gut is telling me this guy is psycho, remembering how he used to stalk and scare me and my friends left me to go do drugs and yank penises at another bar after I told them not to leave me alone with him. These are my friends. I really don't have any real ones. I guess I don't really know much about real relationships of any sort because I’ve had very few that haven't been completely superficial or drug induced, so the good news is that I don't ever really have expectations of people to take care of me, even though I always take care of them. I still almost always get hurt but heal fast. Anyway, long story short (too late) this lunatic drags me out of the bar drags me 3 blocks away tries to get me to take him home with me (oh he's homeless now by the way, "couch surfing" ...yeah) I told him there is no way I am letting him know where I live. He basically is attacking me on the street and not releasing me from his grip, right now I’m covered in bruises and scrapes, he broke TWO OF MY NAILS! (You can attack me but break my nails and it is ON!) no one helped me on the street I was screaming and crying and finally got myself into a cab and sped off. Yes! Welcome to Harriet's NYC! I'm sure you are all thinking, "but Harriet...you're so freakishly gigantic! How could it ever get physical?" Listen i may be big but i'm as weak as a cup of chamomile tea! Don't let the height fool you! I'm a kitten in a rottweiler costume! Anyway, this was a very intense start to a very intense week. 

I'm not sure if I am able to get what it is I’m looking for or yearning for even if it seems to be dangling right in front of my face. Nothing is real! Obviously I’m too honest, I have been through enough shit that it scares "normal good men" away from me. I have slept with a lot of men. I have sex like a man, I am Samantha Jones. It sounds retarded but it's true. And what makes a slut? Religious oppression (no) Liquor (sure) Lack of boundaries (ok) Rape, molestation (ummm....like mama used to say, it’s not rape if he yells “surprise!” …oh calm down!). Whatever is the recipe, I really don't think of myself as a slut. In my circle of friends I’m a prude! Listen I have an appetite for men like most men have an appetite for women. I can't help it. They stir me! They're fucking beautiful! Why wouldn't someone want to devour them like pastries! YUM! If that makes me a slut then so be it, I think it's just a genuine and healthy way of living (if you use rubbers…oh you thought I meant condoms? No galoshes silly! condoms feel like shit!) You do what you want and act on instinct and fuck what people say. The thing is you are left alone. How can you do what you want, act on instinct, follow your heart and get all the love you pour into someone else, even if it's for that one night, back? Not from stalkers or fans or people who are light stealers? And ay, there’s the rub. Still navigating but with all my baggage and past and the fact that I am vocal about most of it, it seems that no one really can deal. It's always the mousy boring bitches that have the man, the protector. Well not always, there is Snooki. Snooki found love. If that midori sour soaked cum dumpster can find steady snake then I certainly can. So there you have it, I’m comparing myself to an orange turd. This is what my life’s come too! See why I HAVE to be famous? It's not like a choice really, it just has to happen! What other road is there? I’m gonna be happy. I make what most people would consider to be stupid decisions but they are my decisions and if I have to go through them by myself then that is just what I’m gonna do! I’m fine with that and know that I’m smart and wonderful enough and fuck everybody else (well I already did that!) You only get one life and I gotta live it the way I know how. Trick is I got to not let the past steal my present or navigate my demise! Shit that’s happened has NOTHING to do with what is going to happen! Don’t let the shaky hands and mascara dripping down my face fool you, I am NOT a mess! WHO WANTS A MIDORI SOUR!