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the girl in the plastic bubble
it's been awhile since i've written here. maybe its because my life has gotten too x rated. or maybe it's just not x rated enough. either way, things are stagnant i guess. i got 2 new jobs, both at clothing stores. their easy enough and the pay is ok and i like who i work with. i also got back into chance mode and its so lame. last weekend, on saturday, we had sex 4 times. the best sex ever, 4 real. the only problem is when he opens his mouth. the other problem is that he's such a dude-type guy and doesn't know me and doesn't really care to. i'm physically addicted to him. it's strange because when we fuck, i feel like our bodies communicate in this great way-like there may actually be something to this kid, something deeper that wants to get out. but that's probably not the case at all. he's probably just really good at doing it and that's that. we had that one night when he opened up to me and we talked and it made me like him as a person a lot more. but he can't feed my ego, doesn't say anything nice to me. not even a thank you when i say he's a good kisser. and when i bring it up he's all whiny, like i wanna be his girlfriend. i almost feel embarassed that i'm writing about this and i put up with this sort of behavior, because i know i deserve better. i have a crush on no one and so i guess i'm just letting this preoccupy my mind for now so i dont have to think about myself. but that's not true either. i always think about myself. but how long can i spend doing that? its nice to think about kissing chance for hours. when he wraps his legs around mine and when he holds my head and plays with my hair. it's nice to think about him grabbing my hand and leading me into the shower. or when i was leaving john street and he kissed me right there, in front of everyone, and said "apartment 22, right?" the overall package is sad, but these small tokens keep making instant replays. its like a drug, when you only think about the good times and not the bad ones. i know he's a drug. what else can i do except ride it out and learn? i am fully aware that he's bad news bears. i guess i should wish for more self respect? what i really wish for is to just get over him and realize how much time i'm wasting. and maybe i even wish for him to realize how good i am and how stupid he is for not knowing. but that would be too goos. he'll never know. one day he'll be a lonely, sad, miserable man. but right now he's young and pretty and always busy. unavailable. i'm happy with everything else going on. i still need to talk about dear diary with gavin but i'm not too worried. i'm still writing monster articles for vice, and since i've stopped going to the office him and i have been chilling more and i like that better. i want more than anything to go away this weekend. hamptons are out. fatboy moves in on sunday. things will be changing drastically before i know it, and i'm looking forward to some good old fashioned mass hysteria. toodles.
1:28 a.m. - 2002-08-28
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history - mystery
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