Plathological

Fucking Outside Against a Brick Wall On The Way Home

After Woolly Mammoth at Lucky (with Matt & Xavier), a drunken walk home & sex, Jaxon (that’s how his name is spelled, I’ve since learned) is naked and extended, his whole side toward me, against the bed. “What do you think of me,” he asks.

I myself am sitting upright, back against the wall, “What do you mean? I like you,” I say.

“No. I mean: what do you really think of me?”

Perceptive little bastard. Did I forget to mention this: he’s perceptive in a way that gives me chills. Must have dated a lot of girly-girls. You know the type. The type that keep you guessing into a prison of your own making. ANYWAY: I half dive, half lean over him, grab my bag and extricate a cigarette. Once it’s lit I say, “I don’t know. I mean. I’ve been reading a lot of Margaret Atwood lately. Basically everything she wrote.”

AND THAT WAS MY ANSWER. THAT WAS MY ACTUAL ANSWER.

I’m not quite sure where I was going with that. Not quite. I said other stuff, but he started to fall asleep by then. It was a confusing question, all told. The little shit sure as hell asks The Right Questions to the right people. And FUCK--he's HAWT.

The first time I fucked him a few nights ago (we went swimming at the beach beforehand and then proceeded to get drunk while dancing &tc.) we were on blow. I started To Ball. I never cry in front of people. I Never Cry In Front Of People--is what I told him. A few times. He took it really well, wanted me to cry more. I couldn't do it. I never had that kind of request from a guy . . . .usually they would either ignore me or give me a toddy to "calm me down." I'm a different person now. To anyone who hasn't witnessed the transformation: I'm harder and no longer cry when hurt. I just don't give two shits to BE hurt anymore.

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This morning I started to feel it.

Posted by caroline at August 3, 2005 1:29 PM