(I wrote all of these for a now defnct Live Journal. I'm presenting them as is, I'm sure I'll write more someday.)
I was remembering the past, again, forgive me, past.
Picking me up at the alien flat airport, showing me that she had been wearing garters and hose all day, was it blue? Or purple? Or pink? Time has erased all the memories of color and shade, but not the flat farmlands spilling out in front of us, able to see for miles, a direct contrast to my mountaineous upbringing.
It seemed like the world could continue forever. That we could continue forever.
Dusty wheels rolling. hand sliding skirt to reveal bare thigh, colored strap contrasting with tanned leg, no panties, no shame, drive on.
(real world me now seeing this in less poetic prose)
When I met my ex in Kansas to take her back here, life seemed so perfect. Me against the world, with her. It seemed like perfection, I couldn't wait to get her back to her dad's house and throw her down on the bed and take her. We'd been talking about it for months. As it was, her whole family was there to meet me, but I made sure, when we went into her room, my fingers took seconds to find her.
I carry fond memories of that two days before the bottom dropped out.
Laying in bed, all the windows open, both naked, the only light a radio playing impossibly great music and her lit cigarettes, one after the other, illuminating her face, short hair, small, perky breasts.
i wish sometimes I could live in those two days.
It's odd, probably my Catholic upbringing, but I was so worked up the last day, she was at work, I jerked off in her bathroom and I was sure that's what screwed it up, that I somehow disrupted nature by doing that there.
I guess you have to understand. I'm crazy sometimes. And I wanted some rational explanation for those two days, why everything was so perfect.
I guess the explanation is that thousands of miles of phone cords made everything seem better than it was.
I almost got married to L.
A long time ago.
I was young, in love, she was the first girl I ever had sex with. I can be such a romantic at times.
I met her late at the night at the gym. I didn't know then she was a stripper, that she did porn, that she had sex with numerous guys at bachelor parties, that she'd take $100 to fuck a guy.
A question you never want to ask someone you love is how much it costs to fuck them.
But the sex? Intrinsically, the crazier and more messed up in the head someone is, the better the sex, so I have learned. If it wasn't blowjobs in the middle of St. Louis traffic or her masturbating and putting on a show for people as we drove, it was her asking me to mount her face and use her mouth like a cunt. Her words, not mine.
Maybe I see the past through rosier glasses, but a lot of what she did now feels like a movie that didn't happen to me, happened to someone else.
I was lucky to escape with my life. And sanity. She had literally seven VDs on her last test, and I luckily got none of them.
I remember the first night we had sex, she was on her period and even so, I still wanted her so badly. I remember I had to fill out all this paperwork for some relationship test she had set up for us, and she wouldn't let me touch her until I finished. She kept spreading those muscular thighs of hers, showing me her shaved mound, spreading and unspreading. I think I've been horney ever since.
We almost got back together once. We spent all night together and she dropped me off and in the morning, my car broke down. I took it to a garage and I saw a car that looked a lot like hers. I asked the guy at the garage, do you know her? And he told me they do coke with her, fuck her when she passes out and use her car.
So needless to say, the reunion was unsuccessful.
I was thinking more of my post about L from yesterday.
I remember, at one point in our relationship, she mentioned that I didn’t fulfill her because I was trying to remain a virgin. Stupid me, I know, but then she bragged about how she’d blown some guy while he had a chain around her neck and led her all around the house on it, all the things and experimentation she’d done.
And now, I’ve probably done more than her, experienced a lot more and with a lot more giving people, who were willing to open up to me and show me, help me, guide me.
And that’s what’s it’s all about, I suppose.
She was never wrong, always so sure of herself, but so wrong.
I can’t even masturbate thinking about her anymore. I haven’t for over a year.
The hardest thing one has to do is kill off the love or lust someone feels for someone, because they know it will hurt them.