Thursday, April 3, 2008

The New Office Pool

You know, it’s funny, I’ve gotten a lot of feedback in the last couple days and with very few exceptions, it falls into two categories: girls who think this is hilarious and guys who think it’s batshit insane.

Some of you, and you know who you are, would bet the farm against me. That’s fine, although perhaps I should bet the farm against you and then go find Jesus in Antarctica for a while. That’ll show temptation. And it’ll show you assholes for doubting me. I’m just kidding. I know this is crazy and it doesn’t sound possible. Not for a lot of people and certainly not for me.

However, I also know that I really need to do this. It’s time to try something new.

Four years ago I settled down, with “settled” being the operative word and that’s three years of my life I can never get back. In the last eight months I have dated, in no particular order: a playboy, a laborer, a billionaire, a frat guy, the dude that invented Pictionary and a selfish bastard hell-bent on destroying my heart for sport and his own entertainment (not that I’m bitter.) In my lifetime I have sent three guys to therapy, not because I drove them to it, I merely suggested it and they agreed it was a good idea. I’m not even going to get into the number of people I’ve hooked up with.

And yet, here I am, single again. Single by choice this time around, but single nonetheless.

Clearly, something is amiss in this picture. But the pictures have all been so different.
In fact, the only unifying factor that can be found among these situations is that sex was involved, to varying degrees, in what went down.

Oh wait, there’s one other common factor: they didn’t work out. And thus I find myself at a crossroads where this little experiment comes in. For once, I’m going to make myself the control, and take all the other variables out. And by “variables,” I mean “penises.”

Who knows, perhaps I’ll even learn how to blush again.

One other thing, since this also came up a lot…yes, I’m going to come clean if I can’t do it. If I fuck up by fucking around, you’ll be the first to know. Furthermore, I promise that if I can’t do this, I will concede defeat to the ass gods and I will take my lashings as they are appropriately doled out.

But if I’m right and I can go 90 days without hanky-panky, petting, kissing or humping….then it won’t even matter if I’ve proven to you that I could because I will have convinced myself. And then I’ll laugh all the way to the bank with the money I bet on Team Allie.

So go ahead, take the under. I’m gonna let it ride for 88 more days. I think I can do the unthinkable.

Of course, I certainly wouldn’t take the over, either.
This might be crazy but I’m not that crazy.

xo

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

since "oppositional defiance" is my middle name, if i had that many people saying i couldn't complete the celibacy project successfully, i would just say, "fuck you all!" and prove them wrong. luckily for you, that attitude will allow you to prevail in this particular situation.

oh, and by the way, don't even bother with the bachelor. the new tila tequila is coming on mtv soon and despite all of my feminist qualities, i can't seem to tear myself away from the previews.