What Would JJ Do?

****This is a new fictional piece****

After a long day at work I like to cuddle up on my bed and watch some TV with Envy. Envy, my cat, got her name because she really is a green-eyed little monster. When I brought her home from the pet store, yes I bought her from a pet store and not some do-gooder rescue group and apparently according to many people this makes me a horrible person. Whatever. The point is she wreaked all sorts of havoc in my apartment: ate, clawed, and broke many things. Thankfully I don't own anything real nice. My furniture much like me has been previously loved by several owners.

Are you ready for it? Here's strike 2 against me. I'm a woman who loves sex. Okay, that's a bit of an understatement. I'm borderline nympho. Give me your best shot because you can't say anything I haven't heard a hundred times before: Slut, whore, tramp, home wrecker. The first three I don't mind as much but to the best of my knowledge I have never wrecked any one's home except my own and once again I give the credit to my feline friend for that.

About six months ago my last relationship brutally ended when Josh started talking about taking things to the next level. He was a real sweet guy and that should have been a giant red flag yet I proceeded because he was so damn hot. I am definitely not a relationship girl by any means but I gave it an honest shot. Josh was into hand holding, cuddling, buying me small gifts to show he cared. I'm sure any girl would have melted for him, just not this girl. And before you go psycho-analyzing me I'd like to clarify I don't have daddy issues, mommy issues, or intimacy issues. I'm just not into that shit. You will NEVER catch me watching some crappy Drew Barrymore romantic comedy. However if you like gory slasher flicks or high energy action flicks then we'll get along just fine.

So I ended things with Josh aka every girls' dream. At the same time I decided to take a break from it all. Not that I'm boasting, well okay I am a bit, but every time I sleep with a guy he falls in love with me. I am that good. True story! If you want to know my secret I'd have to say I have a sixth sense for reading my partners. I can tell what he wants and how he wants it before we even start kissing. If I were a call-girl I'd probably be some high end one that charges a few thousand per session with a very select clientele. Not that I'd ever consider that line of business as I am perfectly happy working in retail hell.

Where were we? Oh yeah I'm relaxing after work with Envy when I hear the guy upstairs going at it. He's loud, the girl's loud, the bed banging against the wall is loud. It's a painful reminder that I haven't gotten any in almost six months. Six months?! Since the fateful day I lost my v-card I've never gone more than a couple weeks with a score. Like the drug reference? Well I don't need drugs because sex is my drug. This drought is on the level of needing assistance from The Red Cross. Here's another issue, I have a small bit of history with my upstairs neighbor too.

At last summer's block party I had a few too many beers. I was traveling in the happy land of somewhere between shitfaced and pleasantly buzzed when I literally bumped into him. Icy blue eyes, jet black hair, strong muscular build. What separates me from the common slut is the fact that I am picky about who I sleep with. I don't waste my time on fat balding smelly slobs with bad teeth. Neighbor boy was exactly the kind of man meat I liked to devour. And up until that point we had only exchanged in mild flirtation. Suddenly I found myself in his apartment hungry for sex like a teen aged boy. He was by far the best kisser I had come across in my many years. My body ached for him and based on his massive boner I knew he ached for me too.

This has never happened to me before and it's a bit embarrassing actually. I freaked out, pulled away, and sprinted out of his apartment. The lame ass excuse I gave was that I wasn't feeling well. It must have been true because it would take nothing short of the bubonic plague to keep me from scoring with a hot guy. What was wrong with me? I haven't been able to look him in his icy blue eyes since. Some would argue it was too soon after my break-up with Josh. I would argue what the fuck do they know? Have you not been listening to me? I am not a girl who gets attached.

Now I'm in my own personal hell watching some reality TV with one of the seven deadly sins by my side listening to all the fun I should have been having right above me. I stare longingly at the drawer full of neglected toys because I refused to even pleasure myself. This would be a great self help book "Tramp to Born Again Virgin in Thirty Days!"

Since I have nowhere else to turn and blatantly refuse to pay someone $50 an hour to ask me how I feel I'll just skip to the conclusion every psychologist draws and blame my parents. My mom wanted to name me Julianna after her favorite Catholic School nun (an interesting side note is that my mom was raised Jewish. What Jew sends their kid to private Catholic school? Obviously there's a family history of crazy) and my dad was really attached to the name Jennifer after his great-aunt. The compromise was to name me Julianna Jennifer. Thank goodness for the sanity of my older brother who insisted I be referred to as "JJ".

I often get "JJ, that's so cute". I am NOT a cute girl. Cute girls like butterflies. Cute girls like the colors pink and purple. Cute girls have to accessorize. Cute girls cry while watching shows like The Bachelor thinking "why not me". By the way the reason it's not you is because you're a pussy. Yeah I said it. Hey I'm not trying to be your best friend here. There's this little thing I like to do called keeping it real. JJ is a girl that doesn't paint her nails, has a wardrobe full of jeans and sneakers and t-shirts, and loves playing sports with her friends when the weather permits. For this reason I don't have many female friends; simply put I can't relate to the typical female bullshit.

Man are they still going at it? This guy must have unbelievable stamina. As I look up at the ceiling I start chanting to myself that I made the right decision to back away from it all. I know I did. I think I did. I'm not so sure. I need a cold shower.