 |
 |
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
i'm thinking that i wouldn't mind this again; not forever, but again. we get together. he's plainly not interested when i talk to him on the phone and i let things go, try again a few months later for no reason, let it go again. a friend that i trust says that this guy's not interested when i call him but he is at some other hour of the night, when i'm not on the phone calling him. i don't know. it's fuckin weak-ass pussy-ass bullshit to get heartbroken by a one-night stand, right?
damn, he's still fine. a few inches taller than me, thick, a tight skin fade, football jersey. puerto rican, but lighter skinned than me. big ass dick. when he first walks in i'm too scared to show recognition, even though we both easily see each other. finally i do the butch nod and he walks over. we chat a little bit, he says long time no see, asks me if i still live alone. whassup, i got a roommate but he's cool, does his own thing.
part of me wants him to offer me another ride home so i can say, listen, i think you're a nice guy and i don't want a one-night stand. when i first met you i was new in town, and fresh out of a relationship with a guy who told me to shut up in public and lied to me about his hiv status and called me a bitch. i know, i was the one who invited you in when you dropped me off. if you want my number, call me this time. we'll go out and this time when we kiss it'll be more than the blowjob prelude.
another part of me wants him to walk me out of there with his right hand pressed against the small of my back, maybe one finger in the back belt loop, and then, when we're sitting on my couch, push me towards him with his right hand on the back of my neck and kiss me. then, just like last time, he'd grab my right hand with his left and put it on the lump in his pants. i want him to move his hand down my neck, down my back, and feel how much harder my ass is after six months of working out since he last felt it. i'm hard, wanting to feel his cock stretching my mouth out, trying to coax itself past where it's rubbing my throat. i wanna fuck him again because this time i know it doesn't mean shit and won't be sad about it. i probably thought that the first time, but can't remember; i know, a contradiction from what i said before.
but none of this is gonna happen. we're watching the show together in silence. i'm wondering if he's wishing that i would go away. i'm thinking, i don't want to be stressing every time i see him at this place, because finally i find someplace to hang out in my neighborhood. the only thing that matters is me saying goodbye to him before he takes off, so that he knows i don't expect anything and we can shake hands and say i'll see you around and feel like we're men. so i do that, say i'm gonna take off now, and accidentally am the first one to move towards a hug.
it's a full moon outside. one of my friends that i just ditched at the club is sleeping over at my place tonight, otherwise i'd call up one of the two guys i hang out with occasionally around my neighborhood. one of them asked me last night what i'm looking for in a relationship. i'm staying up late writing this because i don't wanna go to bed alone tonight. but i don't want, i think, what i did the right thing in moving away from tonight. i don't know how to want what i want. i dislike the part of me that wants a regular boyfriend that i call when i work late, but i dislike the part of me that wants to sportfuck every eligible bachelor or philanderer in the new york metro. what i really dislike is sadness hovering when i open up my address book and see numbers that i know i'm not supposed to call anymore.
no quotes to sprinkle in tonight. i need to beat off and forget about being sad for a little while.
