Don't ask, don't tell. . .

I spent the past week in Panama City Beach, Florida for Spring Break 2007. This was the first spring break for me that I actually went somewhere. All of my previous breaks were spent working, namely as the Easter Bunny at the local mall. So instead of having a bunch of screaming, crying children sitting on my lap, I had a bunch of horny, drunk guys trying to sit on my lap. Kind of the same thing, but not. I think I underestimated spring break or rather the total lack of inhibitions people have while on spring break. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about having fun and letting go. Only my definition of “letting go” involves a little more, “Hey, lets make some drinks and lie on the beach for a few hours“ and a little less, “Hey, lets get wasted and go to an asian whore house.” Just as an example. Not saying that really happened. Although if it did, I could say that they do in fact exist and there may or may not be one in Atlanta, Georgia. P.S. A handjob may or may not cost you $60.

Okay, yes, I realize that this all may make me seem like a bit of a prude, but I’m alright with that. I’d rather come home from Panama with my dignity and a souvenir t-shirt than a case of herpes and a lifelong prescription for Valtrex. That and my dad said that if he ever sees me on one of those Girls Gone Wild videos he’s totally cutting off my cell phone service. Plus, when you haven’t had sex for as long as I haven’t had sex, you begin to not miss it anymore. You begin to pick up hobbies that take your mind off of it, such as knitting or crocheting or ritualistically crying into your pillow every night after masturbating. Really. I swear, it’s not pathetic or lonely at all. And if you position your pillow just right, it’s almost as if you’re actually spooning with someone.

Oh, who am I kidding. I’m nowhere near having a relationship and I have too many morals to be promiscuous. I’m never having sex ever again; however, I’m almost finished knitting the most adorable afghan.