m a u d l i n m e

I put my hand on him. Touching him has always been important to me, it was something I lived for. I never could explain why. Little, nothing touches, my fingers against his shoulder, the outsides of our thighs touching as we squeeled together on the bus. I couldnt explain it, but I needed it. Sometimes I imagined stiching all of our little touches together. How many hundreds of thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take to make love?

In order to appear charming, you played piano for me at 4 in the morning. I asked how long you’d been playing & you said, “a few days.” Just as you finish saying this, you start with a very playful song, very upbeat. I made some joke about how in a few days, you’d turned Vince Guaraldi. You laugh, probably impressed that I knew who he was, which is, of course, why I made the joke. I touch my hair, tuck it behind my ears & you find some excuse to touch me. I knew you liked my stockings, you had told me so. (You also found any excuse to touch them.) I wanted you to just grab me & push me up against a wall. Just look me in the eyes & say something like, “I am going to fuck you now.” Honestly, it isn’t anything special to you, I just want someone to fucking take control like that.

Of course, you didn’t. You said something very sheepish like, “I have really enjoyed your company” & asked for my number. Shrug, you’re not the type of (boy) I am looking for right now.

The (boy) on the motorcycle, driving through the desert, sleeping under silk trees with rattlesnake nests built in. That’s the type of (boy) I am looking for right now.

We sit at the bar, chain smoking. He looks so deeply in my eyes, telling me of his heartache & adventure. He even makes a self-referencing joke about how typical this romance between us is. I sit, dopey eyed, hanging on every word of the cynical playwright. Of course.

I don’t even think that I can trust much of what he says, but it matters absolutely none to me. I also think about him taking me into the mens room & fucking me up against the dirty bar walls. He’s the type that actually do something like that, but he has herpes. I know this & I don’t want herpes. I finish my cigarette & move on…

He came over really late, Olaf was happier about it than I was. That’s typical. When we hugged, he moaned as if his heart was literally broken & I had just squeezed his bruises. The sex was bad. Really bad. My mind kept going other places & in memory, I would smile. He caught me smiling a few times, probably thought it was for him. He’s very selfish like that. He’s always been a very selfish lover. I would catch brief whiffs of other boy’s scent in my bed & feel guilty.  I also hadn’t showered from the night before & I knew other boy’s finger prints & lips were all over me. I didn’t feel guilty about this. I smiled again. 

A few days later, I am lonely & drunk, riding around listening to sappy music. I don’t want to go home yet, I don’t want the party to be over. All of my friends have left to sleep, but I want to connect with someone. I call the old boy at 3:45 & tell him that he owes me some sort of closure. He owes me one last good fuck. I go pick him up & rip his clothes off of him. He touches me as if he hadn’t in years. He kept saying, “you feel so good,” as if he were surprised. He was always this way, never understanding that it isn’t a surprise that I am a good lover.

The sex was great. Really great. I pretty much just did exactly what I wanted, gave myself to him like I hadn’t much before. Completely throwing all that I had into it. I knew it’d be the last of completely comfortable sex for a while.

Afterwards, I felt almost immediately annoyed by his presence. I wanted him to leave so badly, but it was six in the morning & I was drunk & he had no car. Even in a sleeping state, his presence flustered me. Every movement seemed like a direct insult to me, personally.

I wake up the next morning, guilty. I know I have confused him. I know I acted very lustfully, selfishly. This seems to be a more exhausting pattern of behavior. We leave the house, to join our friends at the cafe & the idea of even walking on the sidewalk beside him makes me shutter. I ask him if we can walk in separately, he complies with a long sigh. I feel guilty again.

I won’t be seeing you for a long while, I hope it’s not as long as these country miles.

I feel lost.

Two weeks ago, he left with trash bags lined with dirty clothes filling his backseat. This afternoon when he drove up, they weren’t there. He knew wasn’t coming home & I felt so relieved. I felt so fucking relieved. 

you were right

outside, by your doorstep

kept repeating in my head & I really knew, for the first time in five years, that this was the right thing. He was very calm & respectful, more than he had been in years. He didn’t even try to have sex with me, which I was expecting.

I am glad it didn’t happen. It would have been hideous sex, me crying & snotting on his back. He would have fucked me & then I would have felt worse, but I almost certainly would have allowed it.

Instead, we got the breakup part over rather quickly & talked mostly of business. We arranged which furniture he’d take, which credit cards I would pay off. Timing-wise, this is the best breakup we have ever had. Stephanie tells me that I am too “pomo” to really care about these sorts of things. Always too analytic to give myself completely to my emotions.

This is one of the greatest lessons that the boy taught me.

After the business talk, we sort of laughed about different things. He got sentimental for a second, but I deterred him by telling him this sex dream I had about having an orgy with him & his ex-girlfriend. He loves stories like those. I suppose that’ll change nowadays.

“Every time I ever told you that you were acting like your mother, I meant it,” he smirked. Of course I knew he meant it. Of course I knew he was right, too.

if im lost its only for a little while

if im lost its only for a little while.

if im lost its only for a little while!

Standing in the pouring rain, I shielded myself with a large, technicolor umbrella. I leaned into his car window to tell him one last goodbye & as I do, he grabs my hand & says, “I am going to call you when I am bored, okay?”

I guess this is me, now.  

faithampersandbegorrah:

So much for crossing “Don’t be an utter twat” off today’s to-do list.

Damn.

[in other news, why does this show have the absolutely WORST theme song evar? i’d rather listen to nickelback & that is no lie.]