Man, I love absinthe. Neat. In small quantities. But I love it.
Went out with PB to watch Wolverine today. Nice. Not spectacular - just great. Liked Angels and Demons better - it left more of an impression.
After, we walked up and down M.G. and Brigade Road, sipping absinthe from a lovely little mouthwash bottle. It was so well disguised that I was proud of myself. :)
It also hit us (me, at least!) fairly fast, and I went giggle-crazy. Also started unabashedly leching at the men walking around on the street. Slim pickings tonight, but we were pretty thorough.
Admitted to her that I've had sex. A liberating feeling. Less to pretend about. Good, all in all, to have done that.
Also, meeting her made me feel happy again. I needed a college-style outing - living at home is driving me mad. Also, don't have a room to myself, and that's starting to slice my nerves very thinly and precisely. Argh. Felt good to act my age, and to get out there. Just didn't want to come back here.
Was drunk enough to almost call out to a guy on the road. :P Might have been fun. Who knows.
Then my mum called, followed not too soon after by my dad. Wanted to shoot them both. Sometimes, you just. don't. care. And it becomes very difficult not to give in to that. Managed somehow. Almost fell asleep in the auto back. Wanted to. Didn't give in, eventually.
I'm so fucking desperate to get some action, it's pathetic. I've gotten myself off innumerable times these past few days. Nothing stands out. I need a man. I need to make out. I need to fuck. And, quoting from Californication, I need to screw like I have something I need to get out of my system. (I do.) I want random play. I don't want to know names or phone numbers or to ever meet the guy again. I just want some.
And now I'm thinking about that hot dad. Sigh. I am SUCH a loser.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
A Shout-out
42, you make me wet. And I'm not ashamed to admit it.
Heck, no-one's ever going to read this, right? :) At least, no-one I know... and even if they do, I doubt they'll figure out who I am.
I'm cyber-stalking you on Facebook, and I know how creepy that is. But seeing pictures of you makes me feel good.
Plus, I just saw the movie 21, which I've been wanting to see for like, forever, and I'm on a movie buzz.
Someday, I'm going to reveal this blog in a fit of shamefaced embarrassment to the guy I'm with, or married to, or whatever. And I hope to god that he finds it funny, or thinks that I sound my age, which is a giddy 21. :P
Fingers crossed.
I'm off on a nice long holiday in two days, fucking hell thank god. Can't stand it at home anymore - the lack of peace and quiet is driving me up the wall. I'm hoping to get away from it all on this sojourn. I love travelling alone, and am really looking forward to it. These are two destinations I've never been to. I plan to soak it all in.
And if I can manage it with those nice-looking boys D/U, I abso-fucking-lutely intend to get lucky.
Heck, no-one's ever going to read this, right? :) At least, no-one I know... and even if they do, I doubt they'll figure out who I am.
I'm cyber-stalking you on Facebook, and I know how creepy that is. But seeing pictures of you makes me feel good.
Plus, I just saw the movie 21, which I've been wanting to see for like, forever, and I'm on a movie buzz.
Someday, I'm going to reveal this blog in a fit of shamefaced embarrassment to the guy I'm with, or married to, or whatever. And I hope to god that he finds it funny, or thinks that I sound my age, which is a giddy 21. :P
Fingers crossed.
I'm off on a nice long holiday in two days, fucking hell thank god. Can't stand it at home anymore - the lack of peace and quiet is driving me up the wall. I'm hoping to get away from it all on this sojourn. I love travelling alone, and am really looking forward to it. These are two destinations I've never been to. I plan to soak it all in.
And if I can manage it with those nice-looking boys D/U, I abso-fucking-lutely intend to get lucky.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Letter 2: Infatuation
Dear 42 (also known as CoatBoy),
I think I can't get over the fact that I just want you so much. Regardless (and rather oblivious, too), of what I may actually know about you, I've made up my mind - decided that you're the kind of guy I want to be involved with right now. I've got you pegged as a "bad boy" - and I'm really hoping that I'm not horribly wrong. I think my obsession with you is beautifully tempered by the fact that you've been nice to me on the few occasions that I've interacted with you. I like that mix.
I do really hope you're single - not because I don't want you to have someone, but because I want to want you without reservation - and I couldn't do that if I knew that there was someone in your life. Please, be single, so that I don't hate myself for being this insanely attracted to you (or the concept of you, at the very least)!
I'd love to know that you're up for anything - that would be my perfect situation, because I really want to let loose. Could you be in a short-term, let's-just-have-fun-and-part-with-good-memories, no-judging relationship that centres (perhaps) almost exclusively on the physical? [And this is where questions, about whether I'll ever find someone who knows my kind of D/S and wants it too, pop into my head and confuse me.] Hey, just let me know.
Your eyes attract me the most. I can't look you in the eye for a reason - there is too much there, and I'm too afraid of revealing all of my feelings, and my burning desire for you, to you, if I do.
Would you be able to say "fuck it all" and just do this with (and to!) me? Fuck, I hope so. I want to live. If that, at the moment, means getting the daylights fucked out of me, I'm totally open (heh) to the idea. I think you're kinda what I'm looking for. What think you?
(Hopefully) yours,
@.
I think I can't get over the fact that I just want you so much. Regardless (and rather oblivious, too), of what I may actually know about you, I've made up my mind - decided that you're the kind of guy I want to be involved with right now. I've got you pegged as a "bad boy" - and I'm really hoping that I'm not horribly wrong. I think my obsession with you is beautifully tempered by the fact that you've been nice to me on the few occasions that I've interacted with you. I like that mix.
I do really hope you're single - not because I don't want you to have someone, but because I want to want you without reservation - and I couldn't do that if I knew that there was someone in your life. Please, be single, so that I don't hate myself for being this insanely attracted to you (or the concept of you, at the very least)!
I'd love to know that you're up for anything - that would be my perfect situation, because I really want to let loose. Could you be in a short-term, let's-just-have-fun-and-part-with-good-memories, no-judging relationship that centres (perhaps) almost exclusively on the physical? [And this is where questions, about whether I'll ever find someone who knows my kind of D/S and wants it too, pop into my head and confuse me.] Hey, just let me know.
Your eyes attract me the most. I can't look you in the eye for a reason - there is too much there, and I'm too afraid of revealing all of my feelings, and my burning desire for you, to you, if I do.
Would you be able to say "fuck it all" and just do this with (and to!) me? Fuck, I hope so. I want to live. If that, at the moment, means getting the daylights fucked out of me, I'm totally open (heh) to the idea. I think you're kinda what I'm looking for. What think you?
(Hopefully) yours,
@.
Letter 1: Curiosity
Dear Couch (or, Mud - whatever you prefer),
I like you. I think you're generally hot. And I know for a fact that you're smart and funny. I'm just not insanely attracted to you - you aren't the quintessential "bad boy" I'm looking to see on the surface, and generally run after, right now. Not like 42/CoatBoy. But that's a story for another day.
I'd really like to get to know you better. I've heard pretty much only good things about you - which is rare for a class like ours at this stage, as we are. I've heard crap about just about everyone (everyone's an asshole, huh?). I know I'm far from perfect, but to be honest, I'm tired of being around nasty people, regardless of whether I fit in with them.
Hehe, I'm secretly thinking about how much I can't wait to see if you'll get drunk at the next college party. You wouldn't believe the number of people (yeah, women) who are hoping you will. Germany has somehow made you super-hot, you know. Some say it's the hair - you apparently have great hair now. :) Personally, I think it's because you look less stick-thin and starved.
Another funny thought - I just realised that I've only ever thought of you as The Guy With The Long Neck - I always thought you were decent-looking, but that neck of yours claimed most of the attention I had to give. :P
I remember that NYP - you came up to me and hugged me. It was cute and, in retrospect, nice. You're a cute drunk, too. I wish you made yourself more visible in college - it would give me more of an excuse to get to know you. With one year left and my singlehood tempting me to let out all the stops, I think I really would enjoy that. Or generally - let's talk.
Whaddaya say?
Yours,
@.
I like you. I think you're generally hot. And I know for a fact that you're smart and funny. I'm just not insanely attracted to you - you aren't the quintessential "bad boy" I'm looking to see on the surface, and generally run after, right now. Not like 42/CoatBoy. But that's a story for another day.
I'd really like to get to know you better. I've heard pretty much only good things about you - which is rare for a class like ours at this stage, as we are. I've heard crap about just about everyone (everyone's an asshole, huh?). I know I'm far from perfect, but to be honest, I'm tired of being around nasty people, regardless of whether I fit in with them.
Hehe, I'm secretly thinking about how much I can't wait to see if you'll get drunk at the next college party. You wouldn't believe the number of people (yeah, women) who are hoping you will. Germany has somehow made you super-hot, you know. Some say it's the hair - you apparently have great hair now. :) Personally, I think it's because you look less stick-thin and starved.
Another funny thought - I just realised that I've only ever thought of you as The Guy With The Long Neck - I always thought you were decent-looking, but that neck of yours claimed most of the attention I had to give. :P
I remember that NYP - you came up to me and hugged me. It was cute and, in retrospect, nice. You're a cute drunk, too. I wish you made yourself more visible in college - it would give me more of an excuse to get to know you. With one year left and my singlehood tempting me to let out all the stops, I think I really would enjoy that. Or generally - let's talk.
Whaddaya say?
Yours,
@.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Don't Speak
Don’t speak.
I don’t want to know what you’re thinking. I don’t want to know how you feel. I have heard your reasons in the past, and can’t hear anything from you any more, because it hurts. It hurts, not because of something you have said or done in the present, but because it is the dull ache of the past, with its memories and its reflected pain – pain that will only ebb once it has flowed.
I understand now why rebounds are so common – sometimes you need someone, anyone, to be there as you recover, as an emotional wrecking ball demolishing you every morning. Someone to distract you and occupy your mind when you let yourself be distracted and occupied. Someone to help you exorcise your demons by turning everything into equations of the material realm, exhausting you physically with repeated lovemaking till your mind shuts down from its extended overdrive and derives a few hours of clarity and peace.
Sometimes we are broken so bad that it takes more than just time to un-break – while we may spring back in our work and our flimsy social relationships, sometimes the fault lines run so deep that we don’t realise how bad it is until one morning, we look in the mirror and can’t recognise the person looking back at us.
Loss changes people. Always. But here, with this, I’m not entirely sure of the extent of my loss, or of the things I’ve lost. What do I know right now of the price I’ve paid in self-respect and self-confidence?
I don’t want to know what you’re thinking. I don’t want to know how you feel. I have heard your reasons in the past, and can’t hear anything from you any more, because it hurts. It hurts, not because of something you have said or done in the present, but because it is the dull ache of the past, with its memories and its reflected pain – pain that will only ebb once it has flowed.
I understand now why rebounds are so common – sometimes you need someone, anyone, to be there as you recover, as an emotional wrecking ball demolishing you every morning. Someone to distract you and occupy your mind when you let yourself be distracted and occupied. Someone to help you exorcise your demons by turning everything into equations of the material realm, exhausting you physically with repeated lovemaking till your mind shuts down from its extended overdrive and derives a few hours of clarity and peace.
Sometimes we are broken so bad that it takes more than just time to un-break – while we may spring back in our work and our flimsy social relationships, sometimes the fault lines run so deep that we don’t realise how bad it is until one morning, we look in the mirror and can’t recognise the person looking back at us.
Loss changes people. Always. But here, with this, I’m not entirely sure of the extent of my loss, or of the things I’ve lost. What do I know right now of the price I’ve paid in self-respect and self-confidence?
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