Filed under: at the bar, texting | Tags: dancing, drinking, free drinks, fuck off, gay bars, making out, stalkers, texting
There was a blip of darkness on one atypical Monday nite at 3 AM. After a nite of gay bars and lots of gay men and lots of free drinks, we were back on the street. During the fifteen minute walk home, my arm was linked with a deceivingly straight man that my dear friend West wanted to take home with him. I was supposed to help him seduce him, or something; I don’t remember the plan. There probably wasn’t one. But then I remember my back against a red-brick wall, his arm around my waist, and his lips on my neck. So I let it happen, and it felt like a refreshing mint of heterosexual desire after a nite of gallivanting with the gays. And I wish this was the end of the story.
But somehow while me and this very friendly passerby decided it was late and we needed to part ways, I gave him my number. Big mistake. He called to ask me out several times. I never responded. He texted. I never responded. He texted about why I wasn’t responding. Asking if I “felt guilty about what happened.” I never responded. And then something horrible happened. I saw him at a bar. He was there with a girl. I kept out of his line of sight for half an hour until the two of them left. Three hours later, last call is about to happen, we are at another bar, and he shows up, alone. He catches my eye, smiles confidently and walks over, and proceeds to say, “Hey, I hope your nites been better than mine, because mine has been really lousy. Take care.” And with that, he squeezed my shoulder and walked away.
The next evening, it is Saturday nite. Leslie Mac and I don’t know what to do. We decide to go to the same bar. I think it was foreshadowing when Leslie said, “Who goes to the same bar two nites in a row?” Clearly, lots of people. We are drinking and dancing and having fun when he walks up to me again and says, “I really had fun with you that nite, and I’d really like to get to know you better, but no pressure, I’ll be standing there by the bar if you want to come over and talk.” That nite he is referring to was by then six weeks ago. And then he watched me like a hawk while I was trying to enjoy a good ol’ twist and shout on the dance floor. And then he came up to one of my friends and said I was a “really amazing woman.” The next day, he sent me a text: “Hey, how have you been? You looked really sad last night.” I just find it far too overt to say, “I was sad because you were staring at me like a hawk. Fuck off!”
Filed under: casual sex, luv, sex, texting | Tags: bars, casual sex, one night stands, sex, texting, texts, txts
I said I would be “ready” by 5. He came over at 7. He had given the mix cd he made for me to another girl, but he made me a copy of it, he said he felt like an asshole about it. But I was first to tell him that I gave the mix I made for him for to another boy, even though I didn’t. I just said that. I said it because guys want what they can’t have. That’s just how you play the game. Quite frequently the game is over as soon as I have sex with a boy, but sometimes one-nite stands can become the best casual sex. I didn’t even fake it once, and we spooned all nite.
This one saw me at the bar. He said he liked my shoes. He bought me a drink. The bar closed. We walked down the street with nowhere to go. He said I looked like Betty Boop and he wanted to kiss me. I said no. He said please. I said okay. He pushed me up against the side of a fence. I told him to get it over with. He said no. He kissed my neck and shoulders. When our lips finally touched, I bit his lip, and I went home with him. That was my Valentine’s Day nite. I was covered in luv bruises; I usually am when there’s chemistry.
I hadn’t seen him in nearly a month. I had almost forgotten what he looks like except for a vague shadow. We had txted off and on, but he had other girls and I had other boys. A string of noncommittal, flirty bla-bla-blas can be something to do, like smoking a cigarette. It’s a time filler. Most boys are time fillers.
Filed under: love, luv, relationships, texting | Tags: after party, love, luv, one night stands, relationships, sex, sms, texting, texts, txts
Do you like mine?
It was so good last time we did it. The first time we did it. I don’t know your last name. I don’t know how old you are. I don’t know where you work. I don’t know where you live. I only know you were better than my exbf.
I want to txt u, “When can we fuck again?” but I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.
i don’t want your love, boy. i just want your luv, boy. i don’t want to date you. i don’t want your babies. i don’t want to meet your friends. you don’t have to buy me dinner. we can’t make a “movie” (even though you asked), but you can angle a mirror to watch. if you want, we can spoon when we’re “done,” but i get to be little spoon.
i just want to relive that nite we met drunk at that after party, and i stumbled home with you. you ravaged my body. you said things that made me feel special. you were also kind of an asshole.
