Slutsville Diary - P3 - Mirror.. Mirror.. on the wall .. show the bitch in me for all ..

My parents sent me off to India where I completed my bachelors degree. The few possessions I had after four years in my own l'll Alcatraz were a group of close friends and a college degree. At 21, that seemed quite an achievement when compared to my friends out here who were still figuring out what field to pursue. Plus, no college loan to pay back. I could begin my life afresh without too much baggage.

My job in Chicago, my team of happy-drunk Irishmen, a latina bombshell and a couple of sober Pakistani guys, my work that I can sleep-walk through and still appear quite good at, my work schedule that leaves plenty of time to pursue my other loves, my apartment here, my collection of books and glass ware, my red-devil ride - a Mustang I bought after I saw Carrie drive one in Sex and the City (a different model though) - all of it helped stabilize my life. Cooking was a therapy I discovered accidently.

My girlfriend in Atlanta is a goody-goody Catholic girl, still trying to come to terms with her faith and her choice. I am not much of a help there - she has to fight that battle alone. We are planning for a fall wedding next year but so far, we haven't put much thought into it. I guess all good things in life take their own time - at least in my life they do.

Why am I here ? Because I love this place. It takes me away. Behind every doll, there is a real person. They all have a reason to be here. People discover each other, get attracted, even fall in love, get engaged, get married, get divorced, break up and start all over again. A month here is a long time. I am happy to just count my hours. I have my happy-places here - that remind me of a place in the real world where, at some point of my life, all I felt was happiness - the beach brings back some fond memories with a good friend, especially when I am curled up in a blanket in the real world, looking out at the snowy white landscape outside. I love the dance floors, because I suck at it in real life. The comedy club cracks me up - I can just sit there, drink and listen to inane jokes - If Moses had walked a few more fucking miles, all that oil would have been ours !

And then I get a message. Somebody wants to come over and screw me. Oh, of course I am a bitch. Bitch is the new black. Deal with it !