one good lay (is all i need)

somewhere in heaven, a film was made of me entitled one good lay (is all i need). it would, on a good day, air on the independent film channel, but more likely appear in a gay film festival somewhere like toronto. in it, i play a guy who keeps finding lust in all the wrong places, like on 13th street after i drop jami off from a ghastly club in chelsea—a handsome marlboro man bikes by just as i'm remembering the marlboro man that i hooked up with on this very block. i was remembering him and well, goddamn, he pounded the sh*t outta me, so i was trying to conjure him back, but this guy rode by instead and we kinda smiled at each other, and since i had two overpriced beers in me already, i turned and kept smiling and he did too, so eventually he stopped and i stopped and played cat and mouse for a quarter of a block until we were standing in front of each other saying things like bruce. dante. gramercy. east village. wanna hang out at my place? and we were two blocks from said place when he said "i'm chickening out, i shouldn't be doing this," and poof, gone. that was before the awful semi-sex with the guy who seemed so nice before we started making out and so selfish and boring during, and then back to nice when i abruptly broke things off and said i needed to get to bed, and before the guy broke things off with me while i was probably being just as selfish and boring to him. and all of this was before i finally achieved the title of the film with some fuck buddies that got me back into my own skull. funny sometimes, when people that you have these fly-by-night experiences with help you out so much.