Eager Bunny

Today, I did something completely uncharacteristic and utterly American: I had a vente americano for breakfast. Granted, I took extra Catalyst to ensure the maintenance of my beautiful muscle, but it was so unlike me. Sometimes, I’m just like, screw you egg whites. 

The truth is, I ate like a fiend last night when I got home from an evening with Luke. He cooked yummylicious thai lettuce wraps, but I was still left with an emptiness inside of me. PMS=bottomless stomach. Little mother f-er; f-ing with my competition prep (PMS, not Luke). I plowed through three servings of Muscle Gain and probably a whole cup of oats. At midnight. Literally, 600+ calories right before bed, which I decided could count as my breakfast this morning, since I only awoke four hours later. Sometimes, I’m just like, screw you hormones. 

I move fast. In everything I do. I have a sense of urgency. In everything I do. It’s what makes me a good businesswoman. Unfortunately, it carries over into my approach to relationships. Apollo told me to stop thinking about men as one of my to-do lists; finding the right man is not the same as landing a business deal. He has a valid point; I make separate to-do lists for every one of my businesses. And then I make to-do lists to make to-do lists. 

Also unfortunate, in some instances, is my libido. It’s just stupid, stupid high. Sky high. Lifting weights will do that to ya. So will being comfortable in your skin and confident in your abilities. Out. Of. Control.  

I’ve now been celibate for five weeks. Holy moly. Definitely the longest duration of sexlessness in my life since I lived in Milan. Webcamming and pre-recorded home videos totally don’t count; although, they got me through those dark times. So did Mr. Blueberry. 

Luke and I enjoyed yet another lovely evening together last night. What we we haven’t enjoyed, however, is our naked bodies. I mean, each other’s. 

For only knowing him a little over a week now, we’ve actually enjoyed quite a few moments together. Sweat sessions at my gym, at yoga, and at the track; dinner with his friends, bbq with my friends, and sharing our music with one another. He’s like my new buddy...my new partner in crime...almost like, dare I say, my gay friend? Except we hug and kiss at the end of the night. 

Here’s the thing: Luke is very in touch with his feminine side. He is perfectly groomed, he likes to cook, he likes to bake, his home is immaculately clean and is decorated like it was featured in a magazine spread. He loves fashion, he loves fancy, he loves sexy, he loves art and music. He doesn’t watch sports. He knows the SATC characters. He says thank you when I give him kisses. It makes my lips curl up, every time. 

One may start jumping to conclusions, but I did not, as my eldest brother is quite similar, and quite straight. I think it’s a musician thing. And I saw Luke check out my ass, just a glance. 

You know what’s interesting is that I also questioned Apollo’s preference when I first met him, because of how he was put together; and then I saw an ESPN magazine in his car, and decided I was good to go. 

Oddly enough, James was also one of the girls. He was the guy with more girlfriends than guys. The one girls went to for advice. The one that would rather play sax than sports. Nonetheless, he too, was turned-on by women. 

Last night I found myself in a similar position with Luke as the last few nights we have spent together: straddling him, with my clothes on. I was burying my kisses in his sweet-smelling neck, waiting for him to make the next move. I was raring to go. 

He slapped my ass and told me I have a very smackable booty. I agreed, and told him he can smack it again. And again. He said I have one of the sexiest bodies he has ever seen. I said thank you, and thought to myself, WHY don’t you want to see it in its organic form! Hellloooooo, nurse. 

I thought this, and then I just decided to say it. Life is too short to not say what’s on your mind. 

“Luke, I want to rip off your clothes. I’m wondering why you don’t want to do the same?” 

Luke preceded to tell me that he’s going to break my heart. It wasn’t even a maybe. It was a statement, “Angie, I’m going to break your heart.”  

My mind immediately started bumping “Break Your Heart”. Whooooaaaa. 

My initial reaction was confusion; then it shifted to challenging. It’s true, I always get my heart broken. I never break hearts. It breaks my heart to break hearts. Actually, I broke James’ heart. I was confused, then. Much of life is about timing. 

Luke said I wear my heart on my sleeve (duh). I said I can’t help it; it’s who I am. If I’m falling, you’ll know it. I’m a lover. I have a lot of love in my heart. And I’m a giver. I want to give my all. 

You know what is so sad? It’s so sad that I am so used to being taken advantage of, I was SHOCKED he didn’t want to throw me on my back (or side, or on all fours, or over the couch, etc.) and have at it. Shocked. Clearly, I have not been respected for what I’m worth. And clearly, Luke is an awesome dude. He is only watching out for me- and him. 

So, as my good friend, Amber, always says, it’s time for me to pump the breaks. Don’t love-tap the breaks, pump ‘em. 

My good friend, God, tells me the same thing. Patience, Ang.

My good friend and sister, Melody, tells me the same thing. In fact, it’s as if she knew exactly what was on my heart today, because I just received this email from her an hour ago: 

“Sis, I’m reading a book called, “Bringing up Girls.”  Working on how to raise my daughter. 

There are a few pages on a study that a psychiatrist from UCLA’s Student Psychological Services Division,  did on how casual sex affects our brains.  The doctor talks about how they can examine a person’s brain directly using MRIs, PET scans and other imaging technology.  Shows the wiring of the brain and how it functions.

Three neurotransmitters in the brain:  Dopamine, oxytocin, and vasopressin. The chemicals explain why sex partners often have “flash backs” or recurring memories of that first experience that make them want to continue having sex.  These chemicals in the brain operate to give pleasure during sex and then bond you with your partner emotionally.  If a person has multiple partners outside of marriage, the bonding mechanism is interfered with and he or she loses the ability to connect in the same way.  Basically, the more sex you have, the weaker the bond with whoever you marry.  Illustration?  The band aid.  The first time you put it on, sticks firmly.  Each time you pull it off and put it back on, the stickiness gets weaker and it will no longer stay in place.

So they did these tests right? And found that you can actually see brain activity when a person is lusting.  When a person is experiencing genuine love a different part of the brain is stimulated, and it shows up on PET scans.

Summary:  When a couple has a sexual experience but then does not stay together, it affects both of them emotionally, which then tinkers with the function of pleasure-giving neurotransmitters.  That, in turn, rewires the brain.  The bond that should occur in marriage is weakened.

Don’t tinker with your pleasure-giving neurotransmitters, Sis! 

Protect your future marriage. If I can eat eggs whites with no salt and no butter, and plain oatmeal and salads every day, take supplements, and work out my body every day, then you can withhold yourself from sex.

The Bible talks a lot about sex.  1 Corinthians 6:18 says, “All other sins a man commits are outside his body, but he who sins sexually, sins against his own body.”

Don’t damage your body, sis.  Don’t damage your emotions.  When you let that desire go, God will bring you the desires of your heart and bless your socks off with a fabulously perfect husband.  He is going to be amazing.

You are one heck of an incredible woman. I’m always impressed with you.  The plans that God has for you are bigger and more unbelievable than you even know.  He desires you.  He LOVE LOVE LOVES you.  He wants you.

I love you, Ang.  Excited to hang with you next weekend and be outside, swim, and lay out in the sunshine.

Kisses.” 

I love my sister. 

I channeled all that giddiness from last week into the inspiration I needed to finally start my routine for the competition. I’m integrating gymnastics, break dancing, and typical Angie flavor (hair flips, booty shakes, and random MJ-ness that comes out of me) to a mix of “Love The Way You Lie”, “Whatever You Like”, “Kashmir”, “She Wants to Move”, and “Not Myself Tonight”. Honestly, I haven’t even had the track mixed yet, but these songs paint my vision thus far. 

I met with a local breakdancer yesterday; he taught me some freezes and cool “tricks”. I whipped some advanced shit out in no time; one move he said had taken him years to get down, and I nailed it. That was rad. It will be even more rad when I lose these last 15 pounds. Easier to hold myself up, ya know? Midnight binges on oatmeal and protein powder aren’t helping my efforts. 

So, here I am, typing away, sore as shit, per usual. About to strip down for my naked nap before I hit cardio, per usual. Taking a more relaxed approach to men, not per usual. 

Ciao for now!