Wednesday, November 11, 2015

cricket

I drove you home because you disgusted me. I couldn't handle the thought of waking up with your pale, wiry body in my bed. In my bed.

I felt annoyed that you didn't want the lamp light on. Your kissing me on the balcony was horrifically cliche, boring, impatient. Your hand on my knee within five minutes of meeting me was infuriatingly boring and impatient, and your impatience to get home at an ungodly hour made me feel cheated of my desire to revel in my intoxication. You stole everything I love about fleeting trysts: the conversation, the departure from sanity, the meeting of bodies. I resented you for it, so I insisted on driving you home. You insisted on feeble excuses.

Your maleness seemed pathetic to me. I flinched not with vulnerability but with voracious anger when you reached between my legs as we walked home, because you were uninvited. How dare you. And still, I let you loom over me. I sincerely believed that once we undressed, it would be fine. That like others, our bodies would match even if our heads didn't. I was unable to fathom that anyone - anything - could be as grotesque and dissatisfying as you were. As always, I overestimate people. I couldn't help but laugh feeling your wrist's poorly-suffocated retraction, as your hand crept under my long, lissom hair and stumbled over the shaved undercut. I imagine you are the sort of person who would have resented the hairs over my pubic bone but imagined some fantasy to combat them in your mind.

"God, how long has it been since you had sex?" I asked, as you breathed your disgusting air all over the space in front of me.

"Two weeks," he said.

"Shit, and I thought I was bad at three..."

He raised his voice. "TWO, I said!"

"Yeah, exactly.. and I thought I was behaving desperately," said I.

Eight always defaults to humiliating people when she finds herself in a situation she doesn't want to take responsibility for. I had a choice. I made the wrong one. Then I rectified it best I could.

I drove you home because you disgusted me. I'd rather sleep alone than alongside self-involved, invasive hunger.


Monday, November 2, 2015

The world's been robbing me of both sex and money, yet I'm the happiest I've been in a while.