three percent

This shit is getting difficult.
I promised I'd write everyday back in March... and I didn't really follow through with it until this month (sort of).
I'm sick of looking at this screen, although it's a very lovely screen.
I sit at home, typing away... and studying (quite poorly. I've been revising the same 6 group of words for the last 2 weeks. 6 groups! I'm so frustrated with myself. Someone get me some fucking Ritalin!)... while my little sister goes out and enjoys her little latin nights with the girls.

I'm totally her wingman... well, in the sense that I tame the beast back at home while she lives a semi-normal young-adulthood. It's not like she should be mistrusted in the first place, since she's commanding officer of the V Club... and sheriff of the Virginity Police.
The girl takes issue with any one of her friends that informs her of their virginity loss. Sis will blurt out her discontent at the most random times to me.

I'll be sitting in the living room, catching up on my Wii Fit bullshit, trying not to wobble as I run a test:
Sis: So-and-so is not a virgin anymore. She told me she did so-and-so last month. She just barely got the nerve to tell me now.
Me: That's nice. ??

I'm sitting at the kitchen table, reading the cereal box as I eat some afternoon Honey Bunches of Oats:
Sis: Bitchass Girl#2! She let her boyfriend screw her!
Me: So?
Sis: THE CREW IS SHRINKING!

I'm sitting on my bench at the gym, quietly waiting for class to start:
Sis: So... Girl#3 is no longer part of the club.
Me: What?
Sis: G#3 fucked a guy.
Me: Who the hell are you? Chill, Gestapo!

It's a lonely club... to date, there are 7 lonely members... and one of them is close to getting her membership revoked due to her lax definition of virginity ("as long as a real penis doesn't penetrate your vagina, you are still a virgin." Take that as you may). The group only counts Hometown girls 17 years and older.

Sis is part of the club because she's of the "Wait Until Marriage" kind. She freaks out when her fellow Catholic V's lose their membership, and only grows disappointed in the Non-Cath members who were members... out of sheer bad luck?

Five of the seven members are of the WUM kind. They may be a little wild and party like rock stars, but they'll be damned if any boy touches their no-no place without putting a ring on their finger (besides the aforementioned girl with the rocky membership, because God knows what has been placed in her mouth, backdoor, and cookie box).

The sixth girl is a member because she has never had a boyfriend in the first place. Puberty hit her hard, let's just put it that way. That, and she's also very demanding... she grew up with no interaction with boys her age, so she's very squeamish and rather irrational when it comes to expected male behavior (and their bodily functions). I can't ever imagine her getting laid... because she would never allow a penis anywhere near her... too gross. Mark my words.

Me? I'm of the "Fuck that shit... are you kidding me? Have you seen how that shit turns out?!" kind. Frankly, I could give a shit if my future husband (not probable, but let's just run with it) appreciates this membership or not. My willingness to settle down and leave my comfortable lifestyle should be enough to say "Fuck, I LOVE YOU!"
He shouldn't take ANY credit for my chaste cookie box.
The truth is: I refuse to get that emotionally attached to anyone (hello, have you met me? I get upset when I have to throw away old Play-Doh. I imagine parting ways with a guy I screw will cause major irreparable damage to my already-cynical point of view).

Until the moment I find a guy I find to be absolutely legit (won't make me lament ever taking the chance of possibly reproducing with that retard), and all sorts of awesome (or at least one I can intimidate the shit out of so he won't say a word of what goes on), I'll continue being an anomaly in this city... at least the V Police won't be on my case.

(I'd like to thank today's episode of The Doctor's. Way to get into my head)