I quit my job (and a cinematic epiphany of sorts)

I made big strides today.

1. Through a series of poorly crafted lies and awkward gesticulations, I quit my job and collected my last paycheck, which also happened to be my first paycheck.

2. I decided to do something that I’ve been meaning to do for awhile. The idea came to me after watching Black Snake Moan (the movie where Christina Ricci can’t help but fuck anything that stands on two legs). I almost feel embarrassed saying it, but this movie was a major trigger for me. It’s not that I haven’t experienced trigger moments before (i.e., when anyone picks me up or immobilizes me in any way), but I didn’t expect my “big” trigger to come in the form of Samuel L. Jackson and a kick-ass soundtrack.

This film did two things to me:

First, it reminded me how much I crave the feeling of being used. I got that tingly feeling between my legs, followed by a wave of nausea, followed by the desire to be fucked from behind, followed by the need to cry.
Second, it invited me to trace my patterns of behavior back to a specific person (yes, I know it’s just a movie, but I’ve been needing to place some blame).

My inability to just say “No” has caused me a good deal of disappointment over the years. Every pity fuck and inebriated blow job is followed by a sort of empty complacency, which is soon replaced by the realization that, “Oops, I’ve done it again.”

I thought that I’d broken this pattern of behavior, but I was mistaken. I got myself a boyfriend, pulled my shit together, and for over a year no one requested anything that merited a “No.” Unfortunately, what I believed to be personal triumph was merely circumstantial good fortune.

I’ve fucked up, and I’ll likely continue fucking up, so what's the next step? Or rather, what’s the first step? Admitting my powerlessness? I’m going to skip that one and jump right to step #4. I am going to make a “searching and fearless moral inventory” of my life and myself. What does this mean? Over the next week, you can expect a detailed list of my sexual misgivings (not all of them, just the ones that made me feel like shit seem worth writing about).