Thinking about Edgar now feels like I've awoken from some dream, some hyper-sleep state where the memories that didn't all come through immediately are now starting to file in one by one.
He's the best person to talk about music with...he insists I don't listen to nearly enough punk music. He talks about his favorite band the Lawrence Arms with so much admiration, it's adorable. His iPod is forever changing positions in his car, from being stuffed in his center console to hooked up on his visor to avoid the sound of static from having it transmit through his car radio. I remember my iTrip really sucked and I never got it to work as long as he has.
He claims the reason I have "Working Class Whore" by Pulley on my iPod is because he told me to download it...suddenly, it's his favorite song by them. I know that I downloaded it randomly, only because I knew he liked the band. What he doesn't know is that I was a MySpace creeper a few years ago and noticed he listed them as a favorite band.
We talk about the time he had me listen to a demo he had cut with his band. I told him that it was "a good start." I bet his ego is smarting over that. :)
I like that we kissed during "Love Will Tear Us Apart" by Joy Division.
He makes a lot of confessions around me. I love that he starts each revelation with, "I've never told anyone this but..." or "The only other person who knows this is my friend Abraham...."
He has a brother named Gabriel and a sister named Stephanie. I've never forgotten.
On the ride to my apartment, he stopped in mid-conversation to tell me I looked especially pretty that night.
I admitted that I like to be chased. And that he's done a good job at keeping that up.
He called me "Lucy" as a joke because of my separate bed with Dan.
I'm only about 4 inches shorter than him but I feel he towers over me when he's standing right in front of me.
He kept the goatee because he knows I like a little bit of scruff. FACIAL HAIR ROCKS!
I caught a glimpse at his underwear....boxer briefs, navy blue with stripes.
On the ride home, I heard him sneeze for the first time. Twice. I was so startled I nearly jumped out of my skin.
He sleeps in his parents renovated garage: he says it's a nice bedroom but insanely cold during the winter.
He loves my smile and puts his fingers up to my lips when I start talking too much or putting myself down. I instantly smile. I told him I like his teeth (I think I was a bit tipsy) and he just laughed. His smile is killer, too.
The gel from his hair left little, itty-bitty white flakes on the edge of my sheets. I didn't wipe them away the next night. I left them there and inhaled deeply. You could still smell him. I found traces of his scent on my blouse. I was sad when I had to throw it in the laundry hamper.
Here's a song that pretty much sums it all up, which is a tell-tale sign that I'm getting sprung on the wrong guy again...I can't believe he's become my muse again. ARGH! Okay, so first in Spanish and then English:
"Lo hecho esta hecho"
En la suite 16
Lo que empieza no termina
Del mini bar al eden
Y en muy mala companía
Era ese sabor en tu piel
A azufre revuelto con miel
Asi que me llene de coraje y me fui a caminar por el lado salvaje
Pense "no me mires asi"
Ya se lo que quieres de mi
Que no hay que ser vidente aquí
Para un mal como tu no hay cuerpo que aguante
Coro:
Lo hecho está hecho
Volvi a tropezar
Con la misma piedra que hubo siempre
Se siente tan bien todo lo que hace mal
Y contigo nunca es suficiente
Como fue
Que paso
Esa noche
Impaciente
Fueron a llamar
La de recepción
Cuando se quejaban de la 17
No puede ser nada normal
Acabar eligiendo tan mal
En materia de hombres soy toda una experta siempre en repetir mis errores
No hay ceguera peor
Que no querer mirar
Cuando te guardabas el anillo dentro del bolsillo y dejarlo pasar
Coro:
Lo hecho está hecho
Volvi a tropezar
Con la misma piedra que hubo siempre
Se siente tan bien todo lo que hace mal
Y contigo nunca es suficiente
Nunca me senti tan fuera de lugar
Nunca tanto se escapo de mi control
Pero todo en este mundo es temporal
Lo eres tu y lo soy yo
Nunca me senti tan fuera de lugar
Nunca tanto se escapo de mi control
Pero todo en este mundo es temporal
Lo eres tu y lo soy yo
En eso no decido yo
Coro:
Lo hecho está hecho
Volvi a tropezar
Con la misma piedra que hubo siempre
Se siente tan bien todo lo que hace mal
Y contigo nunca es suficiente
Se siente tan bien todo lo que hace mal
"Did It Again"
First floor
Room sixteen
Smells like danger
Even better
Set your goals
Bless our souls
I'm in trouble
But it feels like heaven
You were like one of those guys
The kind with a wandering eye
But I said, "Hey what the hell, once in my life I'll take a ride on the wild side"
You were so full of yourself
But damn, were you cute, as well
I packed my bags, I liked your moves
Anyone could tell that it's hard to deny that
Did it again, love
I got it all wrong
But it felt so right
I can't believe it
And all the mistakes
That went on for too long
Wish there was a way
I could delete it
Second night in a row
Back in trouble
I don't get it
Gotta keep it down
It's logical
We ignore it (yes, I know)
its getting better
When it comes to men it's known
That I end up choosing wrong
'Cause I always trip and fall
The same old rock and repeat and go back
How blind a girl can be
To miss you hide your ring
Thought about everything
I'm so naive imagining and all that
Did it again, love
I got it all wrong
But it felt so right
I can't believe it
And all the mistakes
That went on for too long
Wish there was a way
I could delete it
It may seem to you that I am in a place
Where I'm losing the direction of my life
But I'm sure that this is nothing but a phase
"Right back at ya," cause I'll survive...
It may seem to you that I am in a place
Where I'm losing the direction of my life
But I'm sure that this is nothing but a phase
"Right back at ya," cause I'll survive
Did it again, love
I got it all wrong
But it felt so right
I can't believe it
And all the mistakes
That went on for too long
Wish there was a way
I could delete it
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Did it again, love..I got it all wrong but it felt so right
We did it.
And I know that convention and morality says I should regret all of this....my religion, my parents, my friends and all the things I see on talk shows tell me I should regret it, but I don't. I fucking don't.
The memory of it still makes my cheeks flame up hot and I can't shake the savory, wicked flashbacks of Saturday night.
I think what makes encounters like this so deliciously appetizing is the wait...the anticipation is a mother fucker. It makes me feel like I'm swimming in an ocean of yearning, desire and wanting...I want, want, want so bad...and the hours never hurry up...and I'm not paying attention to the movie I'm watching or really listening to what this stupid customer is saying...I'm just waiting and I can't be satisfied at least partly until the moment comes.
Christmas was lovely. I spent Christmas Eve with my family and it was great to be free from Dan for a whole day. I got to open all my presents at midnight and it was just great being a Salvadorian again. I spent Christmas Day with Dan's family and tried to make the best of it...we played some lousy board game until 11 pm...my mind was racing towards Edgar. I didn't want to be with these people with their loud, yapping dogs and annoying little kids. I hate having to censor my language and not being able to drink some alcohol...it's times like these that I really do admire my family. Dan's family wants to be too much like the Waltons, no matter how hip they think they may be.
Did I mention that Dan spent all of Christmas Day and Christmas dinner in ratty sweat pants, un-showered and barefoot? His feet were covered in filth. I wanted to wretch.
Finally, the 26th rolled around: a bright Saturday morning. I got up as late as I could, showered and got dressed. I hung out with Dan's family (again!) and got to see Sherlock Holmes for free, at least. All during the movie, my mind kept drifting back to Ed. Is he going to stand me up? Has he shaven his goatee? What will his lips taste like? It's almost a miracle I didn't rush to the bathroom and masturbate to calm the craving for him. My insides churned. The movie was great, though. It was quite enhanced.
I got my car's oil changed and a free wash. While in the restroom of the auto spa, I text Edgar:
What time is good for you tonight?
I shuttled Dan back and forth between my mom's house in Whittier and the Citadel shopping center.
It has now been a few hours since my initial text. Desperation and an unyielding libido set in. I decided to up the ante:
I hope you didn't forget about me. I've got a bottle of Johnnie Walker and an empty house with your name on it. I want you so fucking bad. What time can we meet up?
I stash my phone in my pocket but not before erasing the last two outbound messages. I need to cover up my tracks and get rid of any damaging evidence. My heart slams so hard. My panties feel drenched.
The crowds at Fry's were ghastly but we killed some time spending my gift card money at the Roxy store. Dan was bored, I could tell, but I didn't care. I secretly shopped for something to wear for Ed: a sexy new top, a cute purse...some sandals...a few thermals. Which one of these shirts would wind up balled up in a heap on the floor of my bedroom? Only time would tell.
As we get in my car to go home, I hear my phone finally vibrate with a text message. I pray to God it's him. And it is.
At dinner, I check my phone again. Edgar has replied with one word:
Where?
I breathe. I type.
Meet meet at the same Starbucks as last time. 9 pm sound good to you?
He quickly replies:
Sure.
I reel in excitement:
Good. See you at 9. Wear cologne again.
I manage to get rid of Dan right after dinner and then it's a race to my house where I tell my mom and cousins I want to get dressed up to go drinking with a few choice girlfriends. I keep things vague so no one suspects too much. My cousin Carmen does my hair and my normally straight as a stick black hair is now an inviting head full of long wavy curls with a cute flip. I smile as I apply my make up. I breeze on my way out the door, everyone remarks that I smell good. I laugh with happiness. It's a good laugh.
The normal 5 minute drive to the Starbucks at Beverly and Norwalk feels excruciating. But as I turn into the driveway of the coffee shop, a White Solara beats me to it. It's Edgar, who else?
I watch him pull up next to my car and tremble as he gets out. He has a slender build, standing at about 5 foot 6 inches, weighing 160 lbs. (so he says) but at that precise moment, he feels like a giant to me. I shiver because of the cold and a little because of fear. He smiles and we embrace in the freezing air. "Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday!” he says and with a kiss, I'm his again. "Same to you!" I exclaim. The fabric of his baby blue short sleeve button up feels so good...he's wearing jeans, a dark blue thermal underneath and black and white Cons, just like me. I take inventory in his clothing because I don't want to skip a single detail.
We hash out the game plan in the parking lot and decide that a drive to Reseda is in order. My apartment is empty and the bottle of JW Blue label awaits us.
I love a man who enjoys a long drive. We race up the 101 North, Los Angeles in the Christmas time looking so beautiful. We talk about everything under the sun: work...family, the holidays, money...the subject inevitably turns to relationships and our situation...I think tonight there is no room for feeling guilty. It's clear we're both here to indulge.
At my apartment, he struggles to keep warm and we make out on the couch in the living room. I take a shot of whisky, Edgar savors his on the rocks. It's not long before we both shake off the nervous chatter again and press our mouths together. I cover his entire face and neck with soft, wet kisses...he strokes my breasts through the thin fabric of my brand new Roxy blouse and looks at me with these intense, dark brown eyes...his eyelashes are so long and gorgeous...I feel like I’m dreaming again. The alcohol swirls in my veins, did I really need to drink that Smirnoff Ice right after the shot of JW? Is this real? I feel dizzy and hot as he presses my back against the counter top and starts whispering to me: "I love how direct you are. I just know you want to pounce on me. That smile of yours...."
I can hardly find an answer for him. I giggle and kiss him profoundly with eyes closed. He runs his fingers through my hair and I stammer in a whisper: "Sorry-sorry, I have so much hair; it probably gets in your way." He grins with those smoldering eyes: "No. I love your beautiful long dark hair." We take breaks from the kissing to sip our drinks. He quickly makes the JW disappear which leaves me speechless...I remember trying to drink it myself and finding it so hard. He remarks on how much he loves the taste, so smoky, you can taste the wood and it kicks like a mule. He looks like a real man with that drink in his hand. With his arms around my waist, I feel like a real woman...finally.
We flirt, nibble and tease each other in the kitchen, pressing pause in our game only to polish off our drinks. I can’t wipe that knowing grin off his face and I feel like my cheeks are permanently suffused with red warmth. I can’t keep my hands off him. Letting him kiss me and caress me between my legs is the only way I can tell this is all real.
I work the nerve to say something when he claims that he’s only just a nerd with a love for history working in a law office, as if that should dissuade me from wanting to be with him. He confesses his love for the T.V. show Scrubs and takes my compliments with a boyish charm that I find irresistible.
“Oh but you’re my type. You’ve always been spot on, with that spiky black hair. Those brown eyes...that mouth...that goatee that makes you look like Cortez…” I trail off and nuzzle close to his ear. “Dime en español” he murmurs. My eyes flutter open and I meet his stare. I swallow hard and find the words: “Ay, pero es que eres, tan, pero tan guapo.” He kisses me deeply and hard before answering: “Y tú eres mi Salvadoreña.” I am his Salvadorian girl, he breathes in Spanish and I believe him, if only for that moment. He has me pinned against the counter top again, like a tiger stalking his prey. I feel his erection against my hip and my hand (as if by its own) strokes it. He tries to lift me up and take me there but I resist and pull away. “Oh no no no, if you want those acrobatics, then let’s go over there” I laugh and point to the bedroom, “And finish that drink, too.” He accepts my challenge and drains the last bit of JW from the glass and takes me by the hand. No turning back now.
It all plays out like a dream…like some pornographic fantasy come true. I start taking off my bracelets and watch, he pulls his shirts off and drops his jeans. He notices Dan’s messy side of the room, while mine is spotless and orderly. I shrug, “That’s us in a nutshell.” But the best part is the fact that Dan and I have separate beds. We get naked and jump into mine. ROUND ONE: He has a nice body, slim and without a single blemish. His hands roam all over my body, settling at last in the spot between my legs. He finds my clit almost instantly and I’m so, so ready for him. It takes every single part of me to focus as I slip my tongue in his mouth, but he won’t let me think. He’s rubbing that stubborn little spot and it’s making me tremble uncontrollably. All that messing around in the kitchen and that big swig of Johnnie Walker has left me primed and ready to go. My pussy feels wet and hot and I know he’s having an easy time bringing me close to orgasm. But it can’t end so quickly. I want him to go first before I can. It doesn’t matter what my brain wants. His mouth takes turns suckling each of my breasts and I’m helpless, “Easy, easy….” I gasp but it’s useless. All my thoughts are hazy and coming in fragments, I’m losing every little bit of control to him. My body is telling him everything I want and he’s doing it. “How does it feel?” I moan as I look into his gorgeous brown eyes but I don’t need him to answer. My head is buzzing with heat and passion. I’m shaking. I plead for him to stop but my mouth and my hands and my dripping pussy say keep going: “I’m going to come all over your hand!” I cry but it’s too late. And he whispers he doesn’t care as I give in and let the wave come over me. “Oh God!” is all I can say when words finally don’t escape me. I hold onto him as he takes me again and again, each orgasm making me feel like I'm falling deeper and deeper under his spell. He is relentless and I beg for more, at one point asking him to tell me when he wants me to come. My only request is that he look me right in the eyes when I finally do succumb to the hot, intoxicating orgasm.
He has little time to celebrate my climaxes before I hastily grab a condom. ROUND TWO: He rips open the package and slips it on. Seconds later, I’m on top and riding him savagely. I love the look on his face. He’s fair skinned but now he’s redder than God knows what. It’s his turn now to suffer in ecstasy. His cock slips out a couple of times but we’re able to get him to fit right back in, nice and tight. It’s heaven and I can’t believe it’s real. I’m going to wake up soon, right? He slaps my ass and that only makes my hips undulate faster. I buck and throw my head back in wanton pleasure. I freeze when I feel that familiar feeling creep closer. I want to come again so bad. He looks so good laying there underneath me, his mouth straining to reach mine. My long hair cascades over us as we meet in an ardent kiss. We switch and he gets on top (with a brief pause to wait out the cramp in his right leg!). He slips in easily again and fucks me like a pro. My nails claw into his back as he thrusts me closer to another hot, shimmering orgasm. I hear him groan as my lips find the spot between his ear and neck. I can smell the cologne I asked him to wear. That just propels me even closer. I rub my hands over his arms as he holds himself up to fuck me; the muscles in his biceps are taut and strained. His face is red, wet with perspiration and knotted in sweet agony. I know that face. I know he’s going to come. I manage to choke out a barrage of filthy obscenities as the feeling takes over me. “Oh God, I’m going to come soon. Are you coming, too baby?” I say through gritted teeth. He reaches down to reward me with several feverish kisses and shakes his head urgently. Oh that sweet, torrential agony. I hook my left leg over his right shoulder and wrap my right leg around him. This tightens the sensation. We both struggle against one another, finally reaching that delicious release. “Oh fuck! Oh Edgar! Oh God! Oh Ed-Eddie!” I feel it wash over me again, my vagina contracting viciously on his dick. “Yeah, say my name!” he groans and I answer back with several expletives and his name over and over. He closes his eyes and collapses on me. My arms instantly wrap around his torso and hold him close. He buries his head on my shoulder and I sigh. I know he’s exhausted and so am I. We lay there for a bit, still connected. My hair is spread all over the pillow. I can feel the sweat covering my forehead. I want to stay like this forever but inevitably he has to pull out (my least favorite feeling in the world!) and dispose of the condom.
We cuddle in bed and get under my thick blankets to fend off the cold. I forget to turn the heating on…oh well! We talk and trade fervent kisses. I trace the scar above his left eyebrow with my index finger and ask him what happened. He sighs and says it’s the “one that got away.” Apparently, he slipped in a school bathroom and slammed his forehead on the edge of a urinal. But his parents didn’t bother to give it a second thought and to this day he regrets not seeking some sort of legal action. “Working in a law office and knowing what I know now, we could’ve made some serious money” he laughs. I tell him it’s a cute scar. “Chicks dig scars” he jokes and I reply with “And bones heal and the United States of America has the best doctor-to-daredevil ration in the world!” There’s nothing sexier than two people who can quote the Simpsons in bed.
We let our hands roam all over each other again. “Just give me a few minutes, I know I can get ready for another round” he says and I can hardly believe it. “You can come again?” I ask. He nods his head and gives me a smile. A short refractory period in a 25 year old man...fascinating!
I sit up on my elbow as he palms my breasts: “So I guess you’re not some three pump-”
“Chump?” He cuts in with a look of amusement on his face.
I laugh, “I was going to say champ but that works, too.”
We kiss some more and chat about how stupid we were not to do this sooner. I try to keep the trash talking about Dan to a minimum. I know Edgar still harbors some feelings of resentment towards Dan because of all their playground rivalry back in middle school. Dan teased Ed because he was smaller (still is) and made fun of him when he got pantsed by another group of boys. Guys just can’t seem to let that shit go, huh? I sometimes wonder if Ed is seeking revenge on Dan by hooking up with me. I try and take my mind off of it. I know Ed wishes he could always have me like this and it bothers him that Dan thinks so little of me at times. “If I was him, I’d rush to get home just so I could fuck you every single night.” It’s the raging hard-on talking. I know it. I giggle and kiss my way down his chest and across his flat stomach. I kiss his sides, ribs and revel in the soft skin of his belly. I smile in smug satisfaction at my discovery. He’s hard again and ready for me. ROUND THREE: I instantly grab his cock and begin jerking him off. I’ve never actually been good at this and I feel clumsy. I know he senses it and helps me along. I blush and tell him I’m no good. We all know what I’m really gifted at: I take a deep breath, exhale and slip his cock in my mouth. I suck all the way to the root and inch by inch, he fills my throat. I can feel the involuntary tears start to come as I deep throat him. Oh but it’s good. He groans and reaches for me in desperation. He won’t last long now. I suckle him, my tongue running up the underside of his shaft, my lips caressing the head. He’s uncircumcised; I know...but it only really matters when he comes. I moan all over his dick, hoping he can feel the vibrations. He twists in that familiar way guys do when they’re going to erupt. It’s like he’s swallowed glass or something. I give him a muffled, “Almost?” and he shakes his head, “Yes, yes, almost there.” I suck and suck with all my might, my lips feel numb, I’m getting lightheaded. “Just a little bit more, almost, almost…” he struggles to say. I can’t stop now. I go faster and harder until I hear him gasp. Immediately my mouth is filled with a warm, salty liquid: semen. I moan in satisfaction and lick it all up. I rest my head on his chest and we bask in the post-coital glow. We struggle to keep our feet warm but they feel like blocks of ice. I blame my distaste for socks during sex, he blames his poor circulation. He remarks that if we go for another around, it will be quite hard to pry him out of bed and we might have to spend the night. But before we can get too cozy with the idea of sleeping in each other’s arms until morning, I feel a sharp pain in my vagina. I know what it is already: tons of air trapped in there because of all the thrusting. That’s our cue to start getting dressed. It’s a sad thing to do but it’s almost 2 am and we have a long drive home.
I re-make the bed and straighten out my sheets, Ed volunteers to wash the cups (thank you!) and we take out the trash with the condoms in it. It’s like nobody was ever here.
The drive home is nice. He puts the heater on and I feel sleepy almost instantly. We talk about music and family. He looks over at me and says I look content and satisfied. I stretch like a lazy cat and tell him that I am. We let our hands touch. “We can’t kid ourselves; there’s going to be a next time, isn’t there?” I ask. He nods, “I can’t keep saying there won’t be...I know it’s not true. Not after this.”
We reach Whittier and I find my car, again, thankfully not towed or impounded at the Starbucks. It’s been 5 hours since I was last here. Time flies.
“You know how to reach me,” he says as he leans over to kiss me sweetly.
“I know. But I don’t want to crowd your shit. I’ll find you,” I say and he smiles.
“Thank you, thank you, and thank you!” I whisper quickly as we kiss again and again. Saying goodbye to Ed is never an easy thing. I slip out the passenger side but not before pausing to look at him. I dare to say what I know he’s thinking:
“This could be every day of your life.”
He looks up at me and grips the steering wheel. He nods in agreement. I can tell the remark has registered somewhere in the confines of his mind. Among all the card games with the fellas, the law school applications, family engagements and work day commutes: my comment is now staked there in things for him to think about. He could really have it all with me. And it pains me to even consider it. I know the best revenge Dan could have on me is the dissolution of any real relationship with Edgar, or worse yet: falling in love with Ed and then having my heart broken.
It intrigues me and at the same time frightens me to remember a quote Ed gave me from Camus about how the best kind of love story is the one where the other person dies. Maybe happy endings aren’t for everybody.
We text each other the next day, remarking how sore we both are from the sex. The soreness in my abs, arms and legs are magnificent reminders, if only temporary, of what the body is capable of. I wish my heart would just stay out of it and not start to creep in, because after that, there is no way back.
And I know that convention and morality says I should regret all of this....my religion, my parents, my friends and all the things I see on talk shows tell me I should regret it, but I don't. I fucking don't.
The memory of it still makes my cheeks flame up hot and I can't shake the savory, wicked flashbacks of Saturday night.
I think what makes encounters like this so deliciously appetizing is the wait...the anticipation is a mother fucker. It makes me feel like I'm swimming in an ocean of yearning, desire and wanting...I want, want, want so bad...and the hours never hurry up...and I'm not paying attention to the movie I'm watching or really listening to what this stupid customer is saying...I'm just waiting and I can't be satisfied at least partly until the moment comes.
Christmas was lovely. I spent Christmas Eve with my family and it was great to be free from Dan for a whole day. I got to open all my presents at midnight and it was just great being a Salvadorian again. I spent Christmas Day with Dan's family and tried to make the best of it...we played some lousy board game until 11 pm...my mind was racing towards Edgar. I didn't want to be with these people with their loud, yapping dogs and annoying little kids. I hate having to censor my language and not being able to drink some alcohol...it's times like these that I really do admire my family. Dan's family wants to be too much like the Waltons, no matter how hip they think they may be.
Did I mention that Dan spent all of Christmas Day and Christmas dinner in ratty sweat pants, un-showered and barefoot? His feet were covered in filth. I wanted to wretch.
Finally, the 26th rolled around: a bright Saturday morning. I got up as late as I could, showered and got dressed. I hung out with Dan's family (again!) and got to see Sherlock Holmes for free, at least. All during the movie, my mind kept drifting back to Ed. Is he going to stand me up? Has he shaven his goatee? What will his lips taste like? It's almost a miracle I didn't rush to the bathroom and masturbate to calm the craving for him. My insides churned. The movie was great, though. It was quite enhanced.
I got my car's oil changed and a free wash. While in the restroom of the auto spa, I text Edgar:
What time is good for you tonight?
I shuttled Dan back and forth between my mom's house in Whittier and the Citadel shopping center.
It has now been a few hours since my initial text. Desperation and an unyielding libido set in. I decided to up the ante:
I hope you didn't forget about me. I've got a bottle of Johnnie Walker and an empty house with your name on it. I want you so fucking bad. What time can we meet up?
I stash my phone in my pocket but not before erasing the last two outbound messages. I need to cover up my tracks and get rid of any damaging evidence. My heart slams so hard. My panties feel drenched.
The crowds at Fry's were ghastly but we killed some time spending my gift card money at the Roxy store. Dan was bored, I could tell, but I didn't care. I secretly shopped for something to wear for Ed: a sexy new top, a cute purse...some sandals...a few thermals. Which one of these shirts would wind up balled up in a heap on the floor of my bedroom? Only time would tell.
As we get in my car to go home, I hear my phone finally vibrate with a text message. I pray to God it's him. And it is.
At dinner, I check my phone again. Edgar has replied with one word:
Where?
I breathe. I type.
Meet meet at the same Starbucks as last time. 9 pm sound good to you?
He quickly replies:
Sure.
I reel in excitement:
Good. See you at 9. Wear cologne again.
I manage to get rid of Dan right after dinner and then it's a race to my house where I tell my mom and cousins I want to get dressed up to go drinking with a few choice girlfriends. I keep things vague so no one suspects too much. My cousin Carmen does my hair and my normally straight as a stick black hair is now an inviting head full of long wavy curls with a cute flip. I smile as I apply my make up. I breeze on my way out the door, everyone remarks that I smell good. I laugh with happiness. It's a good laugh.
The normal 5 minute drive to the Starbucks at Beverly and Norwalk feels excruciating. But as I turn into the driveway of the coffee shop, a White Solara beats me to it. It's Edgar, who else?
I watch him pull up next to my car and tremble as he gets out. He has a slender build, standing at about 5 foot 6 inches, weighing 160 lbs. (so he says) but at that precise moment, he feels like a giant to me. I shiver because of the cold and a little because of fear. He smiles and we embrace in the freezing air. "Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday!” he says and with a kiss, I'm his again. "Same to you!" I exclaim. The fabric of his baby blue short sleeve button up feels so good...he's wearing jeans, a dark blue thermal underneath and black and white Cons, just like me. I take inventory in his clothing because I don't want to skip a single detail.
We hash out the game plan in the parking lot and decide that a drive to Reseda is in order. My apartment is empty and the bottle of JW Blue label awaits us.
I love a man who enjoys a long drive. We race up the 101 North, Los Angeles in the Christmas time looking so beautiful. We talk about everything under the sun: work...family, the holidays, money...the subject inevitably turns to relationships and our situation...I think tonight there is no room for feeling guilty. It's clear we're both here to indulge.
At my apartment, he struggles to keep warm and we make out on the couch in the living room. I take a shot of whisky, Edgar savors his on the rocks. It's not long before we both shake off the nervous chatter again and press our mouths together. I cover his entire face and neck with soft, wet kisses...he strokes my breasts through the thin fabric of my brand new Roxy blouse and looks at me with these intense, dark brown eyes...his eyelashes are so long and gorgeous...I feel like I’m dreaming again. The alcohol swirls in my veins, did I really need to drink that Smirnoff Ice right after the shot of JW? Is this real? I feel dizzy and hot as he presses my back against the counter top and starts whispering to me: "I love how direct you are. I just know you want to pounce on me. That smile of yours...."
I can hardly find an answer for him. I giggle and kiss him profoundly with eyes closed. He runs his fingers through my hair and I stammer in a whisper: "Sorry-sorry, I have so much hair; it probably gets in your way." He grins with those smoldering eyes: "No. I love your beautiful long dark hair." We take breaks from the kissing to sip our drinks. He quickly makes the JW disappear which leaves me speechless...I remember trying to drink it myself and finding it so hard. He remarks on how much he loves the taste, so smoky, you can taste the wood and it kicks like a mule. He looks like a real man with that drink in his hand. With his arms around my waist, I feel like a real woman...finally.
We flirt, nibble and tease each other in the kitchen, pressing pause in our game only to polish off our drinks. I can’t wipe that knowing grin off his face and I feel like my cheeks are permanently suffused with red warmth. I can’t keep my hands off him. Letting him kiss me and caress me between my legs is the only way I can tell this is all real.
I work the nerve to say something when he claims that he’s only just a nerd with a love for history working in a law office, as if that should dissuade me from wanting to be with him. He confesses his love for the T.V. show Scrubs and takes my compliments with a boyish charm that I find irresistible.
“Oh but you’re my type. You’ve always been spot on, with that spiky black hair. Those brown eyes...that mouth...that goatee that makes you look like Cortez…” I trail off and nuzzle close to his ear. “Dime en español” he murmurs. My eyes flutter open and I meet his stare. I swallow hard and find the words: “Ay, pero es que eres, tan, pero tan guapo.” He kisses me deeply and hard before answering: “Y tú eres mi Salvadoreña.” I am his Salvadorian girl, he breathes in Spanish and I believe him, if only for that moment. He has me pinned against the counter top again, like a tiger stalking his prey. I feel his erection against my hip and my hand (as if by its own) strokes it. He tries to lift me up and take me there but I resist and pull away. “Oh no no no, if you want those acrobatics, then let’s go over there” I laugh and point to the bedroom, “And finish that drink, too.” He accepts my challenge and drains the last bit of JW from the glass and takes me by the hand. No turning back now.
It all plays out like a dream…like some pornographic fantasy come true. I start taking off my bracelets and watch, he pulls his shirts off and drops his jeans. He notices Dan’s messy side of the room, while mine is spotless and orderly. I shrug, “That’s us in a nutshell.” But the best part is the fact that Dan and I have separate beds. We get naked and jump into mine. ROUND ONE: He has a nice body, slim and without a single blemish. His hands roam all over my body, settling at last in the spot between my legs. He finds my clit almost instantly and I’m so, so ready for him. It takes every single part of me to focus as I slip my tongue in his mouth, but he won’t let me think. He’s rubbing that stubborn little spot and it’s making me tremble uncontrollably. All that messing around in the kitchen and that big swig of Johnnie Walker has left me primed and ready to go. My pussy feels wet and hot and I know he’s having an easy time bringing me close to orgasm. But it can’t end so quickly. I want him to go first before I can. It doesn’t matter what my brain wants. His mouth takes turns suckling each of my breasts and I’m helpless, “Easy, easy….” I gasp but it’s useless. All my thoughts are hazy and coming in fragments, I’m losing every little bit of control to him. My body is telling him everything I want and he’s doing it. “How does it feel?” I moan as I look into his gorgeous brown eyes but I don’t need him to answer. My head is buzzing with heat and passion. I’m shaking. I plead for him to stop but my mouth and my hands and my dripping pussy say keep going: “I’m going to come all over your hand!” I cry but it’s too late. And he whispers he doesn’t care as I give in and let the wave come over me. “Oh God!” is all I can say when words finally don’t escape me. I hold onto him as he takes me again and again, each orgasm making me feel like I'm falling deeper and deeper under his spell. He is relentless and I beg for more, at one point asking him to tell me when he wants me to come. My only request is that he look me right in the eyes when I finally do succumb to the hot, intoxicating orgasm.
He has little time to celebrate my climaxes before I hastily grab a condom. ROUND TWO: He rips open the package and slips it on. Seconds later, I’m on top and riding him savagely. I love the look on his face. He’s fair skinned but now he’s redder than God knows what. It’s his turn now to suffer in ecstasy. His cock slips out a couple of times but we’re able to get him to fit right back in, nice and tight. It’s heaven and I can’t believe it’s real. I’m going to wake up soon, right? He slaps my ass and that only makes my hips undulate faster. I buck and throw my head back in wanton pleasure. I freeze when I feel that familiar feeling creep closer. I want to come again so bad. He looks so good laying there underneath me, his mouth straining to reach mine. My long hair cascades over us as we meet in an ardent kiss. We switch and he gets on top (with a brief pause to wait out the cramp in his right leg!). He slips in easily again and fucks me like a pro. My nails claw into his back as he thrusts me closer to another hot, shimmering orgasm. I hear him groan as my lips find the spot between his ear and neck. I can smell the cologne I asked him to wear. That just propels me even closer. I rub my hands over his arms as he holds himself up to fuck me; the muscles in his biceps are taut and strained. His face is red, wet with perspiration and knotted in sweet agony. I know that face. I know he’s going to come. I manage to choke out a barrage of filthy obscenities as the feeling takes over me. “Oh God, I’m going to come soon. Are you coming, too baby?” I say through gritted teeth. He reaches down to reward me with several feverish kisses and shakes his head urgently. Oh that sweet, torrential agony. I hook my left leg over his right shoulder and wrap my right leg around him. This tightens the sensation. We both struggle against one another, finally reaching that delicious release. “Oh fuck! Oh Edgar! Oh God! Oh Ed-Eddie!” I feel it wash over me again, my vagina contracting viciously on his dick. “Yeah, say my name!” he groans and I answer back with several expletives and his name over and over. He closes his eyes and collapses on me. My arms instantly wrap around his torso and hold him close. He buries his head on my shoulder and I sigh. I know he’s exhausted and so am I. We lay there for a bit, still connected. My hair is spread all over the pillow. I can feel the sweat covering my forehead. I want to stay like this forever but inevitably he has to pull out (my least favorite feeling in the world!) and dispose of the condom.
We cuddle in bed and get under my thick blankets to fend off the cold. I forget to turn the heating on…oh well! We talk and trade fervent kisses. I trace the scar above his left eyebrow with my index finger and ask him what happened. He sighs and says it’s the “one that got away.” Apparently, he slipped in a school bathroom and slammed his forehead on the edge of a urinal. But his parents didn’t bother to give it a second thought and to this day he regrets not seeking some sort of legal action. “Working in a law office and knowing what I know now, we could’ve made some serious money” he laughs. I tell him it’s a cute scar. “Chicks dig scars” he jokes and I reply with “And bones heal and the United States of America has the best doctor-to-daredevil ration in the world!” There’s nothing sexier than two people who can quote the Simpsons in bed.
We let our hands roam all over each other again. “Just give me a few minutes, I know I can get ready for another round” he says and I can hardly believe it. “You can come again?” I ask. He nods his head and gives me a smile. A short refractory period in a 25 year old man...fascinating!
I sit up on my elbow as he palms my breasts: “So I guess you’re not some three pump-”
“Chump?” He cuts in with a look of amusement on his face.
I laugh, “I was going to say champ but that works, too.”
We kiss some more and chat about how stupid we were not to do this sooner. I try to keep the trash talking about Dan to a minimum. I know Edgar still harbors some feelings of resentment towards Dan because of all their playground rivalry back in middle school. Dan teased Ed because he was smaller (still is) and made fun of him when he got pantsed by another group of boys. Guys just can’t seem to let that shit go, huh? I sometimes wonder if Ed is seeking revenge on Dan by hooking up with me. I try and take my mind off of it. I know Ed wishes he could always have me like this and it bothers him that Dan thinks so little of me at times. “If I was him, I’d rush to get home just so I could fuck you every single night.” It’s the raging hard-on talking. I know it. I giggle and kiss my way down his chest and across his flat stomach. I kiss his sides, ribs and revel in the soft skin of his belly. I smile in smug satisfaction at my discovery. He’s hard again and ready for me. ROUND THREE: I instantly grab his cock and begin jerking him off. I’ve never actually been good at this and I feel clumsy. I know he senses it and helps me along. I blush and tell him I’m no good. We all know what I’m really gifted at: I take a deep breath, exhale and slip his cock in my mouth. I suck all the way to the root and inch by inch, he fills my throat. I can feel the involuntary tears start to come as I deep throat him. Oh but it’s good. He groans and reaches for me in desperation. He won’t last long now. I suckle him, my tongue running up the underside of his shaft, my lips caressing the head. He’s uncircumcised; I know...but it only really matters when he comes. I moan all over his dick, hoping he can feel the vibrations. He twists in that familiar way guys do when they’re going to erupt. It’s like he’s swallowed glass or something. I give him a muffled, “Almost?” and he shakes his head, “Yes, yes, almost there.” I suck and suck with all my might, my lips feel numb, I’m getting lightheaded. “Just a little bit more, almost, almost…” he struggles to say. I can’t stop now. I go faster and harder until I hear him gasp. Immediately my mouth is filled with a warm, salty liquid: semen. I moan in satisfaction and lick it all up. I rest my head on his chest and we bask in the post-coital glow. We struggle to keep our feet warm but they feel like blocks of ice. I blame my distaste for socks during sex, he blames his poor circulation. He remarks that if we go for another around, it will be quite hard to pry him out of bed and we might have to spend the night. But before we can get too cozy with the idea of sleeping in each other’s arms until morning, I feel a sharp pain in my vagina. I know what it is already: tons of air trapped in there because of all the thrusting. That’s our cue to start getting dressed. It’s a sad thing to do but it’s almost 2 am and we have a long drive home.
I re-make the bed and straighten out my sheets, Ed volunteers to wash the cups (thank you!) and we take out the trash with the condoms in it. It’s like nobody was ever here.
The drive home is nice. He puts the heater on and I feel sleepy almost instantly. We talk about music and family. He looks over at me and says I look content and satisfied. I stretch like a lazy cat and tell him that I am. We let our hands touch. “We can’t kid ourselves; there’s going to be a next time, isn’t there?” I ask. He nods, “I can’t keep saying there won’t be...I know it’s not true. Not after this.”
We reach Whittier and I find my car, again, thankfully not towed or impounded at the Starbucks. It’s been 5 hours since I was last here. Time flies.
“You know how to reach me,” he says as he leans over to kiss me sweetly.
“I know. But I don’t want to crowd your shit. I’ll find you,” I say and he smiles.
“Thank you, thank you, and thank you!” I whisper quickly as we kiss again and again. Saying goodbye to Ed is never an easy thing. I slip out the passenger side but not before pausing to look at him. I dare to say what I know he’s thinking:
“This could be every day of your life.”
He looks up at me and grips the steering wheel. He nods in agreement. I can tell the remark has registered somewhere in the confines of his mind. Among all the card games with the fellas, the law school applications, family engagements and work day commutes: my comment is now staked there in things for him to think about. He could really have it all with me. And it pains me to even consider it. I know the best revenge Dan could have on me is the dissolution of any real relationship with Edgar, or worse yet: falling in love with Ed and then having my heart broken.
It intrigues me and at the same time frightens me to remember a quote Ed gave me from Camus about how the best kind of love story is the one where the other person dies. Maybe happy endings aren’t for everybody.
We text each other the next day, remarking how sore we both are from the sex. The soreness in my abs, arms and legs are magnificent reminders, if only temporary, of what the body is capable of. I wish my heart would just stay out of it and not start to creep in, because after that, there is no way back.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
because if it ain't love, it ain't enough to leave a happy home
Happy 26th birthday to me.
I'm more excited about the after-Christmas potential hook up with Ed than I am about going to dinner with Dan tonight.
I feel like I should be happier in the inside, to match the smile I've painted on my face today...but I just can't make it happen this time. I can't get Ed out of my mind and he's polluting my birthday...along with different sections of my heart.
Everyone's so happy because of Christmas and I am, too...but knowing that I am slowly falling out of love with Dan is soul-crushing. I feel helpless...like I'm on some runaway train that's going to crash at any second.
If we break up at the end of this lease, I can already feel the sting and the backlash...I feel like our friends and family are a TV audience and Dan and I are this awesome couple, think Ross and Rachel on Friends...we're destined to be fan favorites and nobody wants to see us part...but we have to. I can't keep this up for the rest of my life and get marriage, kids and mortgages involved. I have to go.
This is all my fault. I know that come December 26th, Ed will find a way to cancel on me and I'll get stuck with a $160 bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and a broken heart. I know he's a means to an end...I just know that he has no love in his heart for me, only lust.
You can't make a clean break with lust.
So all I can do to reconcile that hole in my life is to fill it up with more and more hormones, sex and regrets. I want to fuck Edgar until I feel right again.
I'm more excited about the after-Christmas potential hook up with Ed than I am about going to dinner with Dan tonight.
I feel like I should be happier in the inside, to match the smile I've painted on my face today...but I just can't make it happen this time. I can't get Ed out of my mind and he's polluting my birthday...along with different sections of my heart.
Everyone's so happy because of Christmas and I am, too...but knowing that I am slowly falling out of love with Dan is soul-crushing. I feel helpless...like I'm on some runaway train that's going to crash at any second.
If we break up at the end of this lease, I can already feel the sting and the backlash...I feel like our friends and family are a TV audience and Dan and I are this awesome couple, think Ross and Rachel on Friends...we're destined to be fan favorites and nobody wants to see us part...but we have to. I can't keep this up for the rest of my life and get marriage, kids and mortgages involved. I have to go.
This is all my fault. I know that come December 26th, Ed will find a way to cancel on me and I'll get stuck with a $160 bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and a broken heart. I know he's a means to an end...I just know that he has no love in his heart for me, only lust.
You can't make a clean break with lust.
So all I can do to reconcile that hole in my life is to fill it up with more and more hormones, sex and regrets. I want to fuck Edgar until I feel right again.
Monday, December 21, 2009
But I just have one last question... will it be my heart or will it be his?
Every day since I last saw Edgar, I am consumed with enormous amounts of guilt. I cannot seem to shake any of it and every day I am plagued with the sensation that sooner or later, I will get caught.
I am fucked either way, whether I am caught now or later...
If Dan finds out now, I am stuck with him until the lease is over. I don't know whether he'd kick me out of the apartment or leave me stuck with the rent. Probably the latter, which would mean I'd have to scramble to try and find a roommate in time. There's no way I'd ever look good in that situation. I'd be a total rat.
In the meantime, I am left with the oppressive weight of this secret on my conscience. I can't tear my mind away from it and it ravages every free thought I have in my head. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything else...I get distracted. I now understand why people go mad with guilt. All I want is for it be over, even if that means that Dan would hate me and my friends and family would all be disappointed in me. I'd turn into Public Enemy #1 amongst our circle...but hey, at least I'd be a free woman.
When I'm not dreading the inevitable, I try and put a positive spin on what this would mean for me and Ed. There is no "we" presently...it's all just dreams and fantasies of mine. I daydream on my way home from work about falling in love again....what if Ed suddenly decided that I was the one? Would he stay in SoCal and go to law school in Costa Mesa...would he get over himself and ask me to be his girlfriend? What if we finally had a normal relationship and got married...I'd marry a lawyer and everything would be great.
But it won't happen. Stories like this don't end happily. You can't turn a ho into a housewife and you can't turn a horny single guy into husband material overnight. It's not meant for us...he and I are not a "we"...we're too independent, we're too jealous, we're too fucked in the head. We are not right. How could we ever trust each other and build a foundation for a loving relationship on what began as loose morals, lies, betrayal and hedonism?
I tell myself to stay away from him.
If he contacts me, I should rebuke him.
I starve for attention, I pine for a new touch...I hunger for something real.
He texts me randomly on Sunday while I'm Christmas shopping with my mom and my sister. I feel my cheeks flame up with excitement, embarrassment, shame and delight.
Edgar: happy b day
me: Nice try. It's on Tuesday.
Edgar: At least I am early.
me: True. You beat everyone else. Know what I want for my bday/Christmas?
Edgar: What???
me: You, me, a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and my bed. Make yourself available the night of the 26th and it'll happen.
Edgar: Wow...
me: I figured I've never gotten you anything for Christmas...you down?
Edgar: It's what I wanted.
me: Alright, let's call each other then. See you on the 26th.
Edgar: Yes.
I put my phone away and instantly feel sea sick. This is what a junkie must feel like...a drug addict always looking for a bigger score, a bigger high...falling deeper and deeper into destruction.
The desire to sleep with him again is irresistible. It's so, so, so bad....and that's what makes it so intoxicating. Having the forbidden...the more I know it's wrong the more appealing it is.
We come home and I accidentally slam my hand into my mouth, causing my bottom lip to bleed. Dan jokes it's because I must have done something wrong.
If only he knew what I was planning.
I am fucked either way, whether I am caught now or later...
If Dan finds out now, I am stuck with him until the lease is over. I don't know whether he'd kick me out of the apartment or leave me stuck with the rent. Probably the latter, which would mean I'd have to scramble to try and find a roommate in time. There's no way I'd ever look good in that situation. I'd be a total rat.
In the meantime, I am left with the oppressive weight of this secret on my conscience. I can't tear my mind away from it and it ravages every free thought I have in my head. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything else...I get distracted. I now understand why people go mad with guilt. All I want is for it be over, even if that means that Dan would hate me and my friends and family would all be disappointed in me. I'd turn into Public Enemy #1 amongst our circle...but hey, at least I'd be a free woman.
When I'm not dreading the inevitable, I try and put a positive spin on what this would mean for me and Ed. There is no "we" presently...it's all just dreams and fantasies of mine. I daydream on my way home from work about falling in love again....what if Ed suddenly decided that I was the one? Would he stay in SoCal and go to law school in Costa Mesa...would he get over himself and ask me to be his girlfriend? What if we finally had a normal relationship and got married...I'd marry a lawyer and everything would be great.
But it won't happen. Stories like this don't end happily. You can't turn a ho into a housewife and you can't turn a horny single guy into husband material overnight. It's not meant for us...he and I are not a "we"...we're too independent, we're too jealous, we're too fucked in the head. We are not right. How could we ever trust each other and build a foundation for a loving relationship on what began as loose morals, lies, betrayal and hedonism?
I tell myself to stay away from him.
If he contacts me, I should rebuke him.
I starve for attention, I pine for a new touch...I hunger for something real.
He texts me randomly on Sunday while I'm Christmas shopping with my mom and my sister. I feel my cheeks flame up with excitement, embarrassment, shame and delight.
Edgar: happy b day
me: Nice try. It's on Tuesday.
Edgar: At least I am early.
me: True. You beat everyone else. Know what I want for my bday/Christmas?
Edgar: What???
me: You, me, a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and my bed. Make yourself available the night of the 26th and it'll happen.
Edgar: Wow...
me: I figured I've never gotten you anything for Christmas...you down?
Edgar: It's what I wanted.
me: Alright, let's call each other then. See you on the 26th.
Edgar: Yes.
I put my phone away and instantly feel sea sick. This is what a junkie must feel like...a drug addict always looking for a bigger score, a bigger high...falling deeper and deeper into destruction.
The desire to sleep with him again is irresistible. It's so, so, so bad....and that's what makes it so intoxicating. Having the forbidden...the more I know it's wrong the more appealing it is.
We come home and I accidentally slam my hand into my mouth, causing my bottom lip to bleed. Dan jokes it's because I must have done something wrong.
If only he knew what I was planning.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
mistakes that you do mean.....
I thought I could stop, erase this stupid journal and move on...but I can't.
Distraction is key: Dan and I had a housewarming party...our main focus was to keep our friends happy and the alcohol flowing...nobody stayed past midnight...I was miserably sick and exhausted by the end. The party was a bust and we had tons of leftover alcohol...well, that might be a plus.
There are no cute pictures of he and I posing in the new place...he made drinks and I played Beatles Rockband. I don't think I ever want to have a party in that stupid apartment again.
November was especially hard, what with the Thanksgiving holiday reminding me of how I no longer want Danny to be a part of my family nor I a part of his.
I was so relieved when he suggested we drive over to our respective parents' homes on Wednesday night...I couldn't wait to just leave him at his parents house and go back to my family in Whittier. It felt comforting...I felt at peace. I felt free!!
I fought the urge to text Edgar...I wanted to prove to myself that he was no good and just in it for the blow jobs...I secretly hoped there'd be more distractions for me....
No distractions came. Friday night after turkey, I muster the courage/vile intentions and text Edgar. Short and sweet:
me: I'm in Whittier right now. I want to see you tomorrow night for coffee. Let's call it an exercise in restraint.
I stuff the phone back in my pocket and try to concentrate on anything else...the T.V., checking my e-mail, hearing the sound of my family talk...distract me, please!
My phone chirps. I gulp. I know it's him.
Edgar: Sure, can't wait.
My head throbs, my heart slams in my chest...my stomach churns in anticipation and a little horror...we hammer out the details. Tomorrow night, 10 pm.
The next day I have to wake up at 8 am in order to meet up with Dan at his parents house...his co-worker Jon has agreed to take us to Reseda so he and Dan can find extra work at a Christmas tree lot and also squeeze in a trip to the bank and pay our rent. Problem is: his friend was not able to give us a ride due to a misunderstanding with dear ol' Dan.
I am stuck having to drive Dan back out to Reseda, eat crappy McDonald's food for breakfast, force to sit through a bank rep try to convince me to get a new credit card (I refuse) and take a $447.50 chunk out of my bank account.
And in the end, they had no work for Dan or Jon. We went out there for nothing. We can't even pay the rent because the landlord is on vacation till Monday. Oh joy! I spend the rest of the morning shuttling Dan between our apartment and Fry's. He tries to return some computer junk and we end making two trips because he forgot some pieces that came with it. I am annoyed but try not to show. My mind keeps wandering to what Edgar will look like...what will he smell like? Will he be cool about it? Why am I not done with him? WHY THE FUCK DID I START THIS SHIT WITH HIM AGAIN?!?
I decide on the long commute back to Whittier that I won't cancel on Edgar. I drop off Dan at his parents house and tell him I'll see him tomorrow Sunday. My nerves are on edge but I've perfected the calm and cool vibe.
It seems like the hours crawl until 10 pm. But eventually it's 9:40 pm and I'm starting to get ready...makeup, hair, earrings, cute top that shows off my cleavage (is it bad I had Dan pick it out, unbeknown to him?)...I fire a text telling Ed to meet me at the Starbucks nearby at 10 sharp. Seconds later...
Edgar: Wow, precise
I smile to myself. I see nothing's changed.
Of course I arrive at Starbucks early...I'm there by 9:59, looking for any sort of distraction. I sit under the hot lights of the coffee shop and dig through my bag, hoping there's something in there I can read or scribble on...I find my planner and start filling in random events, deadlines, etc. I glance up hoping he'll be in soon but nothing...a few couples sit near me: a couple of Mexican 20-somethings talk about nothing in particular...a geriatric white couple read their respective books, with the woman promptly falling asleep leaving her husband to try and snap a picture of her on his phone. I smile. Can they tell what I am about to do? Can they tell I'm a dirty, no-good, rotten scumbag cheater?
I feel hot. I imagine everyone there, including the baristas, are staring at me with scorn. I take my scarf off, my jacket too. I adjust my blouse and fiddle with the beautiful Coach wallet Dan gave me last year. My heart slams to a stop when I hear, "Hey there!" and see Ed standing there in front of me, dressed in a dark gray button up shirt and jeans....he's grown a goatee and wears black long sleeve thermals under his shirt. He looks so fucking hot. "Hi!" I squeak. We sit down and talk for a few minutes, never bothering to buy a cup of coffee.
"How's married life?" he asks. I blush and insist that I am not married. He knows, I know...things are not good. Life is not good. Or else, we wouldn't be here. I ask him if he wants to get out of here, he suggests we go grab a beer and the race is on.
We wind up shuffling off to The 6740, a little pub in Uptown Whittier. He asks me what I want and upon discovering they serve no hard alcohol (I really don't drink beer), I concede and ask for a Newcastle...he decides on a Stella Artois...the bartender waits on payment, Ed asks if I have any cash on me...I visibly roll my eyes and grab my ATM card...it was loud in the bar, I have no idea if he asked that I spot him on his end of the tab or go Dutch...nonetheless, I am not pleased and fork over 13 bucks plus 2 for tip. Yeah, I paid for both of our drinks and promptly asked the nerdy hipster bartender to close the tab out. I feel cheap. Serves me right.
We grab a table by the door and chat each other up. No awkward pauses the whole night...he downs his Stella and I struggle with my Newcastle...I really, really don't like beer. But it helps me keep a smile on my face as I look into his deep brown eyes. I forget it all and concentrate on my posture, adjusting my cleavage and flirting...this is the shit you forget to do when you're in a steady relationship. My single girl tendencies return. We laugh together and boy does it feel good. We high-five every time we both agree on something or find a thing in common...I giggle loudly and claim my praise for this bar because they keep playing Smiths song...he smiles so sweetly, under that black beard of his...he looks like I'd imagine Cortez did. He, fair skinned with a dark goatee...and me, his dark-skinned Malinali...yes, I am the back-stabber, disloyal betrayer. I am his Malinche.
We stay there drinking our beers until the staff kicks us out at midnight...we stumble into the cold Whittier air and make our way to his warm car. I love the feel of being in his car....his trusty two-door white Solara, it's like I never left. I remember all the times I've pleasured him in the front seat and the time we had sex in the backseat. I can't wipe the perverted grin off my face.
He takes me on his usual tour of Downtown Los Angeles...it's amusing to hear him be my tour guide, interlacing his commentary with blush-worthy compliments about my personality and anatomy. L.A. history is one of his passions. We race past the US Bank and City Hall, the buildings of the L.A. city skyline dotted with cute red and green Christmas lights. We hold hands as he speed along the 101 freeway, stopping only to mutter a cuss word or two at bad motorists who cut him off. I don't want to leave him.
He lets me pick the music off his iPod. I ask if he has any Peter Murphy and sure enough he has my favorite song: "Cuts You Up." This is enough to make me want to devour him. We listen to "Modern Man" by Bad Religion, he can't contain his approval of my selection...we then discuss the severity of the situation. We aren't the first to cheat and we won't be the last...but in our story, there is no happily ever after. I tell him my resignation, he insists I try to get out of the lease and become single again. "For what?" I ponder secretly in my head, "It's not like you'll be salvation when I get out."
We stop at the Ralphs in Monterey Park so we can use the restroom. I shiver. I am only a mere distance from Dan's family's house. Is he sleeping? Is he wondering how I am?
At the end of the night, we have solved nothing. I can't get out of my lease until the summer and Ed won't commit to a real relationship. He plans on attending law school in the fall...I vow to return to Whittier and break things off with Dan. I need to be single and stop lying. I can't keep cheating. All of this seems like galaxies away...
Eventually, we park on Bexley in Whittier, behind Sorensen Park. Our usual spot (and at one time, my usual with Dan) for clandestine encounters...he puts the car in park and reaches for my hand, "So much for the exercise in restraint." I agree and we kiss. And kiss. And kiss. He murmurs in my ear, "You smell so good." A pang of excitement warms my body. I kiss his neck, his face, his shoulder blade. Off come the top layers of clothing. Then comes the underwear and bra. He fastens his mouth on my breasts, I reach for his cock. I trace my tongue across his right ear, he rubs my aching pussy through my jeans. Pretty soon I'm sucking him off while "Fascination Street" by the Cure softly plays in the background. His phone rings but I don't stop and he doesn't answer. A few seconds later, he breathlessly sighs, "Now" and I feel him come in my mouth.
After we straighten up and take a few breaths, we talk some more...again, getting really nowhere except further into the seriousness of our situation. He says he won't be a good boyfriend, he's too jealous...I reply that I can't be a good girlfriend since obviously I'm not trust-worthy...the only conclusion we can come to is that, despite how fucked we both really are, this is the best relationship either one of us have ever really had. It's because we only focus on the fun, none of the real heavy stuff that makes people fight and stray away.
He kisses me longingly as we say goodnight. Next time, next time...I will fuck him...because I feel like a drug addict, always trying to get to a bigger and bigger high. I don't know why we chase each other around so much only to lose each other again and again for months at a time.
I come back to real life. I sleep, I eat, I talk, I drive around...I see Dan and it's like I'm sleepwalking until the next time I see Ed. LIAR LIAR LIAR my head pounds as I eat dinner with Dan. He's a really good cook, that Daniel. Why did I have to be this way and why can't I stop?
Distraction is key: Dan and I had a housewarming party...our main focus was to keep our friends happy and the alcohol flowing...nobody stayed past midnight...I was miserably sick and exhausted by the end. The party was a bust and we had tons of leftover alcohol...well, that might be a plus.
There are no cute pictures of he and I posing in the new place...he made drinks and I played Beatles Rockband. I don't think I ever want to have a party in that stupid apartment again.
November was especially hard, what with the Thanksgiving holiday reminding me of how I no longer want Danny to be a part of my family nor I a part of his.
I was so relieved when he suggested we drive over to our respective parents' homes on Wednesday night...I couldn't wait to just leave him at his parents house and go back to my family in Whittier. It felt comforting...I felt at peace. I felt free!!
I fought the urge to text Edgar...I wanted to prove to myself that he was no good and just in it for the blow jobs...I secretly hoped there'd be more distractions for me....
No distractions came. Friday night after turkey, I muster the courage/vile intentions and text Edgar. Short and sweet:
me: I'm in Whittier right now. I want to see you tomorrow night for coffee. Let's call it an exercise in restraint.
I stuff the phone back in my pocket and try to concentrate on anything else...the T.V., checking my e-mail, hearing the sound of my family talk...distract me, please!
My phone chirps. I gulp. I know it's him.
Edgar: Sure, can't wait.
My head throbs, my heart slams in my chest...my stomach churns in anticipation and a little horror...we hammer out the details. Tomorrow night, 10 pm.
The next day I have to wake up at 8 am in order to meet up with Dan at his parents house...his co-worker Jon has agreed to take us to Reseda so he and Dan can find extra work at a Christmas tree lot and also squeeze in a trip to the bank and pay our rent. Problem is: his friend was not able to give us a ride due to a misunderstanding with dear ol' Dan.
I am stuck having to drive Dan back out to Reseda, eat crappy McDonald's food for breakfast, force to sit through a bank rep try to convince me to get a new credit card (I refuse) and take a $447.50 chunk out of my bank account.
And in the end, they had no work for Dan or Jon. We went out there for nothing. We can't even pay the rent because the landlord is on vacation till Monday. Oh joy! I spend the rest of the morning shuttling Dan between our apartment and Fry's. He tries to return some computer junk and we end making two trips because he forgot some pieces that came with it. I am annoyed but try not to show. My mind keeps wandering to what Edgar will look like...what will he smell like? Will he be cool about it? Why am I not done with him? WHY THE FUCK DID I START THIS SHIT WITH HIM AGAIN?!?
I decide on the long commute back to Whittier that I won't cancel on Edgar. I drop off Dan at his parents house and tell him I'll see him tomorrow Sunday. My nerves are on edge but I've perfected the calm and cool vibe.
It seems like the hours crawl until 10 pm. But eventually it's 9:40 pm and I'm starting to get ready...makeup, hair, earrings, cute top that shows off my cleavage (is it bad I had Dan pick it out, unbeknown to him?)...I fire a text telling Ed to meet me at the Starbucks nearby at 10 sharp. Seconds later...
Edgar: Wow, precise
I smile to myself. I see nothing's changed.
Of course I arrive at Starbucks early...I'm there by 9:59, looking for any sort of distraction. I sit under the hot lights of the coffee shop and dig through my bag, hoping there's something in there I can read or scribble on...I find my planner and start filling in random events, deadlines, etc. I glance up hoping he'll be in soon but nothing...a few couples sit near me: a couple of Mexican 20-somethings talk about nothing in particular...a geriatric white couple read their respective books, with the woman promptly falling asleep leaving her husband to try and snap a picture of her on his phone. I smile. Can they tell what I am about to do? Can they tell I'm a dirty, no-good, rotten scumbag cheater?
I feel hot. I imagine everyone there, including the baristas, are staring at me with scorn. I take my scarf off, my jacket too. I adjust my blouse and fiddle with the beautiful Coach wallet Dan gave me last year. My heart slams to a stop when I hear, "Hey there!" and see Ed standing there in front of me, dressed in a dark gray button up shirt and jeans....he's grown a goatee and wears black long sleeve thermals under his shirt. He looks so fucking hot. "Hi!" I squeak. We sit down and talk for a few minutes, never bothering to buy a cup of coffee.
"How's married life?" he asks. I blush and insist that I am not married. He knows, I know...things are not good. Life is not good. Or else, we wouldn't be here. I ask him if he wants to get out of here, he suggests we go grab a beer and the race is on.
We wind up shuffling off to The 6740, a little pub in Uptown Whittier. He asks me what I want and upon discovering they serve no hard alcohol (I really don't drink beer), I concede and ask for a Newcastle...he decides on a Stella Artois...the bartender waits on payment, Ed asks if I have any cash on me...I visibly roll my eyes and grab my ATM card...it was loud in the bar, I have no idea if he asked that I spot him on his end of the tab or go Dutch...nonetheless, I am not pleased and fork over 13 bucks plus 2 for tip. Yeah, I paid for both of our drinks and promptly asked the nerdy hipster bartender to close the tab out. I feel cheap. Serves me right.
We grab a table by the door and chat each other up. No awkward pauses the whole night...he downs his Stella and I struggle with my Newcastle...I really, really don't like beer. But it helps me keep a smile on my face as I look into his deep brown eyes. I forget it all and concentrate on my posture, adjusting my cleavage and flirting...this is the shit you forget to do when you're in a steady relationship. My single girl tendencies return. We laugh together and boy does it feel good. We high-five every time we both agree on something or find a thing in common...I giggle loudly and claim my praise for this bar because they keep playing Smiths song...he smiles so sweetly, under that black beard of his...he looks like I'd imagine Cortez did. He, fair skinned with a dark goatee...and me, his dark-skinned Malinali...yes, I am the back-stabber, disloyal betrayer. I am his Malinche.
We stay there drinking our beers until the staff kicks us out at midnight...we stumble into the cold Whittier air and make our way to his warm car. I love the feel of being in his car....his trusty two-door white Solara, it's like I never left. I remember all the times I've pleasured him in the front seat and the time we had sex in the backseat. I can't wipe the perverted grin off my face.
He takes me on his usual tour of Downtown Los Angeles...it's amusing to hear him be my tour guide, interlacing his commentary with blush-worthy compliments about my personality and anatomy. L.A. history is one of his passions. We race past the US Bank and City Hall, the buildings of the L.A. city skyline dotted with cute red and green Christmas lights. We hold hands as he speed along the 101 freeway, stopping only to mutter a cuss word or two at bad motorists who cut him off. I don't want to leave him.
He lets me pick the music off his iPod. I ask if he has any Peter Murphy and sure enough he has my favorite song: "Cuts You Up." This is enough to make me want to devour him. We listen to "Modern Man" by Bad Religion, he can't contain his approval of my selection...we then discuss the severity of the situation. We aren't the first to cheat and we won't be the last...but in our story, there is no happily ever after. I tell him my resignation, he insists I try to get out of the lease and become single again. "For what?" I ponder secretly in my head, "It's not like you'll be salvation when I get out."
We stop at the Ralphs in Monterey Park so we can use the restroom. I shiver. I am only a mere distance from Dan's family's house. Is he sleeping? Is he wondering how I am?
At the end of the night, we have solved nothing. I can't get out of my lease until the summer and Ed won't commit to a real relationship. He plans on attending law school in the fall...I vow to return to Whittier and break things off with Dan. I need to be single and stop lying. I can't keep cheating. All of this seems like galaxies away...
Eventually, we park on Bexley in Whittier, behind Sorensen Park. Our usual spot (and at one time, my usual with Dan) for clandestine encounters...he puts the car in park and reaches for my hand, "So much for the exercise in restraint." I agree and we kiss. And kiss. And kiss. He murmurs in my ear, "You smell so good." A pang of excitement warms my body. I kiss his neck, his face, his shoulder blade. Off come the top layers of clothing. Then comes the underwear and bra. He fastens his mouth on my breasts, I reach for his cock. I trace my tongue across his right ear, he rubs my aching pussy through my jeans. Pretty soon I'm sucking him off while "Fascination Street" by the Cure softly plays in the background. His phone rings but I don't stop and he doesn't answer. A few seconds later, he breathlessly sighs, "Now" and I feel him come in my mouth.
After we straighten up and take a few breaths, we talk some more...again, getting really nowhere except further into the seriousness of our situation. He says he won't be a good boyfriend, he's too jealous...I reply that I can't be a good girlfriend since obviously I'm not trust-worthy...the only conclusion we can come to is that, despite how fucked we both really are, this is the best relationship either one of us have ever really had. It's because we only focus on the fun, none of the real heavy stuff that makes people fight and stray away.
He kisses me longingly as we say goodnight. Next time, next time...I will fuck him...because I feel like a drug addict, always trying to get to a bigger and bigger high. I don't know why we chase each other around so much only to lose each other again and again for months at a time.
I come back to real life. I sleep, I eat, I talk, I drive around...I see Dan and it's like I'm sleepwalking until the next time I see Ed. LIAR LIAR LIAR my head pounds as I eat dinner with Dan. He's a really good cook, that Daniel. Why did I have to be this way and why can't I stop?
Friday, October 23, 2009
She's always buzzing just like neon, neon....
I finally told Dan that I was sick and tired of him not helping around with the chores and that I wish I could just go back home...
Yeah, I cried...I felt stupid crying...but you don't know how frustrated I felt having him just laying there, lazy and not wanting to get up...it started first about him not wanting to get up and go do laundry with me...and then it just got out of hand and I started blurting everything out...
It grates my nerves to watch (and hear!) him sleeping in the bedroom when he knows that it's time to go do something...he is forever wasting time...I just can't take anymore of his bullshit...and with each argument, I can just feel the truth struggling to get out of my mouth...I would holler it at him so loud...that I don't want to marry him and I don't want to keep living with him....that when he acts this way, I hate him more than anything.
I told him that I don't have the money to get out of the lease and that I don't think we should have moved in together...I told him the accident was the precise time we should have halted the whole idea and gotten our deposit back.
You could see it visibly registered with him...he was definitely taken aback by it all...and though he suggested we should talk about it (yeah, I agree, waaaay more important than laundry)...I refused...because what's the point? We can't do anything about the lease or anything...not now...we're too far in with all the new furniture, address changes, etc. etc.
Or maybe we're both too complacent. Arguments flare up but they go away quickly as they came...I let it fester and rot...I don't know what he does...but I bet he doesn't spend too much time thinking about it.
My feelings for Dan are so complicated now...they're not as sure and true as they were 2 years ago...I have a great love for him...and I emphasize the HIM part...when he's happy, relaxed and having a good time, he's the best person to be around..he's like a human encyclopedia and is the smartest person around....I feed off his enthusiasm and his humor...he's the funniest person I know and he can make me laugh at anything...he likes hockey and baseball and has great taste in music....plus, he's by far the best sexual partner I've ever had....that's the HIM, the real Danny I know and love from when we were in high school and college.
I don't like the other guy he is...the guy he is most days...the OTHER...he's cranky, irritable, condescending, rude and ill-tempered...he acts like a big baby, refuses to do what he's told, won't listen and is a smart mouthed asshole...he makes you feel bad about things you like and he is LAZY...he falls asleep on you wherever you go (on any car ride, at my mom's house, in my grandma's hospital room once!)...ughhh...that's the Danny I hate...and he invaded the sweet boy I once knew that I would never dream of cheating on.
But the OTHER emerged...and all hell broke loose. That's when I started talking to Gabriel oh so many years ago and part of the reason we broke up the first time...(that is an entire entry unto itself)...so good for me on choosing to live with the OTHER.
(sigh sigh)
I spoke with one of my ex-flames...ah yes, Julio.
He's in Korea and we keep in pretty good contact...we exchange messages and keep ourselves up to date on our activities...he always asks if Danny has popped the question or when I'm going to get married...I always laugh it off and give no definite answer.
Julio is a strange specimen...we were classmates in junior high and high school...I had a mega crush on him and even went to a school dance with him as my official "date" whether he knew it or not...anyway...he moved to Texas in high school and lost contact...the moment Paul and I broke it off in college (the first time, so early 2005), Julio tracked me down through (surprise) Facebook and we started "talking."
"Talking" turned to phone calls and dreamy messages, e-mails, video declarations of love...then invitations to visit him in Vegas for his 21st birthday party...along the way, Dan (at the time my jealous ex-boyfriend) tried to piss on our parade by telling Julio I was a person he should "watch out for." It didn't detract my enthusiastic suitor and suddenly I found myself in a Las Vegas hotel room with 3 other people in May of 2005, trying to make sense of this whirlwind visit.
I fucked him proper both times...I blew him on the couch of the hotel suite, thankfully the living room section was separate from the bedroom...I can still remember his O-face...he wore braces at the time...it was kinda funny....the thought of those metal braces and his look of ecstasy crack me up...I remember it fondly.
That same summer I flew to Texas to see him and we fucked some more...Julio was a perfect gentleman...he paid for all my meals, took me to the theater to see a musical...he held my hand and drove me anywhere I wanted to go...here was a guy that could sweep a girl off her feet! But alas, the distance...oh that distance...reality set in and I had to go back to college...summer ended and so did our romance...we talked about plans, marriage, babies...oh I was love-struck...dumb dumb dumb...we had even made it so that it said we were married on Facebook...surprisingly, only Paul ever called me on it.
All good things have to come to an end.
I saw Julio again sometime in January of 2007....I was on again-off again with Alberto (my ex from hell)...we went on a nice platonic date...that's when he told me he suffered from manic depression...needless to say, he and I did not "hook up."
Nowadays, we talk like normal friends...we never bring up the past or all the amazing sex we had...he mentions casually I should come visit him in Korea...I don't think so...but I let him know I'll entertain the idea, even though I hate Asian food:
Julio: lol. Yeah Korean food is not exactly the best food. But its a lot of fun. There are many great things to do here. I mean I been here for almost two years and I cant really say I have not had fun. Its been great.
me: Well, glad to hear it. We'll see how things turn out next year. I would love to pay you a visit...but Texas is waaaaay closer.
No smiley face. Nothing. I hope he gets the idea. I know he's single (for the most part, he mentioned a thing with a Canadian girl that won't pan out)...I want him bad. AGAIN.
Yeah, I cried...I felt stupid crying...but you don't know how frustrated I felt having him just laying there, lazy and not wanting to get up...it started first about him not wanting to get up and go do laundry with me...and then it just got out of hand and I started blurting everything out...
It grates my nerves to watch (and hear!) him sleeping in the bedroom when he knows that it's time to go do something...he is forever wasting time...I just can't take anymore of his bullshit...and with each argument, I can just feel the truth struggling to get out of my mouth...I would holler it at him so loud...that I don't want to marry him and I don't want to keep living with him....that when he acts this way, I hate him more than anything.
I told him that I don't have the money to get out of the lease and that I don't think we should have moved in together...I told him the accident was the precise time we should have halted the whole idea and gotten our deposit back.
You could see it visibly registered with him...he was definitely taken aback by it all...and though he suggested we should talk about it (yeah, I agree, waaaay more important than laundry)...I refused...because what's the point? We can't do anything about the lease or anything...not now...we're too far in with all the new furniture, address changes, etc. etc.
Or maybe we're both too complacent. Arguments flare up but they go away quickly as they came...I let it fester and rot...I don't know what he does...but I bet he doesn't spend too much time thinking about it.
My feelings for Dan are so complicated now...they're not as sure and true as they were 2 years ago...I have a great love for him...and I emphasize the HIM part...when he's happy, relaxed and having a good time, he's the best person to be around..he's like a human encyclopedia and is the smartest person around....I feed off his enthusiasm and his humor...he's the funniest person I know and he can make me laugh at anything...he likes hockey and baseball and has great taste in music....plus, he's by far the best sexual partner I've ever had....that's the HIM, the real Danny I know and love from when we were in high school and college.
I don't like the other guy he is...the guy he is most days...the OTHER...he's cranky, irritable, condescending, rude and ill-tempered...he acts like a big baby, refuses to do what he's told, won't listen and is a smart mouthed asshole...he makes you feel bad about things you like and he is LAZY...he falls asleep on you wherever you go (on any car ride, at my mom's house, in my grandma's hospital room once!)...ughhh...that's the Danny I hate...and he invaded the sweet boy I once knew that I would never dream of cheating on.
But the OTHER emerged...and all hell broke loose. That's when I started talking to Gabriel oh so many years ago and part of the reason we broke up the first time...(that is an entire entry unto itself)...so good for me on choosing to live with the OTHER.
(sigh sigh)
I spoke with one of my ex-flames...ah yes, Julio.
He's in Korea and we keep in pretty good contact...we exchange messages and keep ourselves up to date on our activities...he always asks if Danny has popped the question or when I'm going to get married...I always laugh it off and give no definite answer.
Julio is a strange specimen...we were classmates in junior high and high school...I had a mega crush on him and even went to a school dance with him as my official "date" whether he knew it or not...anyway...he moved to Texas in high school and lost contact...the moment Paul and I broke it off in college (the first time, so early 2005), Julio tracked me down through (surprise) Facebook and we started "talking."
"Talking" turned to phone calls and dreamy messages, e-mails, video declarations of love...then invitations to visit him in Vegas for his 21st birthday party...along the way, Dan (at the time my jealous ex-boyfriend) tried to piss on our parade by telling Julio I was a person he should "watch out for." It didn't detract my enthusiastic suitor and suddenly I found myself in a Las Vegas hotel room with 3 other people in May of 2005, trying to make sense of this whirlwind visit.
I fucked him proper both times...I blew him on the couch of the hotel suite, thankfully the living room section was separate from the bedroom...I can still remember his O-face...he wore braces at the time...it was kinda funny....the thought of those metal braces and his look of ecstasy crack me up...I remember it fondly.
That same summer I flew to Texas to see him and we fucked some more...Julio was a perfect gentleman...he paid for all my meals, took me to the theater to see a musical...he held my hand and drove me anywhere I wanted to go...here was a guy that could sweep a girl off her feet! But alas, the distance...oh that distance...reality set in and I had to go back to college...summer ended and so did our romance...we talked about plans, marriage, babies...oh I was love-struck...dumb dumb dumb...we had even made it so that it said we were married on Facebook...surprisingly, only Paul ever called me on it.
All good things have to come to an end.
I saw Julio again sometime in January of 2007....I was on again-off again with Alberto (my ex from hell)...we went on a nice platonic date...that's when he told me he suffered from manic depression...needless to say, he and I did not "hook up."
Nowadays, we talk like normal friends...we never bring up the past or all the amazing sex we had...he mentions casually I should come visit him in Korea...I don't think so...but I let him know I'll entertain the idea, even though I hate Asian food:
Julio: lol. Yeah Korean food is not exactly the best food. But its a lot of fun. There are many great things to do here. I mean I been here for almost two years and I cant really say I have not had fun. Its been great.
me: Well, glad to hear it. We'll see how things turn out next year. I would love to pay you a visit...but Texas is waaaaay closer.
No smiley face. Nothing. I hope he gets the idea. I know he's single (for the most part, he mentioned a thing with a Canadian girl that won't pan out)...I want him bad. AGAIN.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
"They will not force us, they will stop degrading us..."
I don't understand why Dan feels the need to nag me about breadcrumbs in the cream cheese when he's the biggest slob of them all. His side of the room is forever covered in clothes, wet towels, blankets, empty cans and random junk...
Having rotting trash in the kitchen and crusty dirty dishes are fine in his world but breadcrumbs in the cream cheese are just NOT acceptable. I have to step in EVERY DAY to make sure his careless behavior doesn't turn into full blown messes. I shudder to think what our apartment would look like if I didn't clean up after him...
You can't ask him to clean a damn thing because he just rolls his eyes and says "no" or "I'll do it later"...
He also blew a gasket the other day because I used the same knife to spread mayo and mustard...he berated me until I got a separate knife. But throwing his dirty clothes everywhere except the hamper, TOTALLY OKAY.
Ughhhh.
Paul and I had our first text message conversation in months...he got a new cell number (which of course he never told me about, I had to find out through Facebook like the stalker that I am)...
I wish Paul had wanted to keep me. I wish he had been more committed...I wish he had loved me more...
Part of me fantasizes wildly that he'll eventually come around one day and find me...he'll chase me all the way back to L.A. and ask me to marry him...he'll say he's sorry for letting me go and promise to never leave my side.
"I can't live without you."
But I know it won't happen.
Having rotting trash in the kitchen and crusty dirty dishes are fine in his world but breadcrumbs in the cream cheese are just NOT acceptable. I have to step in EVERY DAY to make sure his careless behavior doesn't turn into full blown messes. I shudder to think what our apartment would look like if I didn't clean up after him...
You can't ask him to clean a damn thing because he just rolls his eyes and says "no" or "I'll do it later"...
He also blew a gasket the other day because I used the same knife to spread mayo and mustard...he berated me until I got a separate knife. But throwing his dirty clothes everywhere except the hamper, TOTALLY OKAY.
Ughhhh.
Paul and I had our first text message conversation in months...he got a new cell number (which of course he never told me about, I had to find out through Facebook like the stalker that I am)...
I wish Paul had wanted to keep me. I wish he had been more committed...I wish he had loved me more...
Part of me fantasizes wildly that he'll eventually come around one day and find me...he'll chase me all the way back to L.A. and ask me to marry him...he'll say he's sorry for letting me go and promise to never leave my side.
"I can't live without you."
But I know it won't happen.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Kauai or Oahu, Molokai or Lanai, Maui and the Big Guy
Edgar took a vacation to Hawaii...so you can also add "MySpace Creeper" to my list of pathetic hobbies:
I would give anything to be there with him...not to form a relationship, not to talk about feelings....just go to the beach all day and fuck all night...that's all I'd want.
The scenario that I've been putting in my head to help me fall asleep now involves me showing up on the beach there in Hawaii (70 lbs. lighter of course) in a hot little black bikini and casually walking by his lounge chair...he'll instantly recognize me and say my name...I'll slowly turn around, peer over my dark sunglasses and smile..."Hey there!" I'll remark...and well....you can imagine what would transpire hours later...maybe a fireside dinner of pork and tropical (alcoholic) drinks...a stroll on the sandy shore...moonlight...dancing at a random club...steamy flirtation...and then...well, I'd imagine it would all end at his hotel room...peeling off sweaty clothes...and fucking until the break of dawn...I can see it all so clearly in my head...the white marble floors of the hotel suite...soft, satin bed sheets covered in the smell of his cologne...the familiar hum of the A/C...and as I look out the balcony of this gorgeous fictional hotel, I see the waves breaking on the beach...the sound of the waves receding...so comforting, so soothing...his soft, rhythmic breathing...he'd never snore so loudly and look as disgusting as Dan.
WAKE UP, I have to tell myself, WAKE THE FUCK UP!
Last night, Dan and I had an argument about keeping the windows open at night...he refused to let me have the window open even a crack...yes, it's cold outside but it is fucking blazing hot inside because he refuses to even have the windows open during the day...I just hate that he decides when the temperature is pleasant...he wouldn't let me run the A/C even on the hottest days of the summer.
I hate him and he will never be as good as my fantasies...and sadly, neither will I.
I would give anything to be there with him...not to form a relationship, not to talk about feelings....just go to the beach all day and fuck all night...that's all I'd want.
The scenario that I've been putting in my head to help me fall asleep now involves me showing up on the beach there in Hawaii (70 lbs. lighter of course) in a hot little black bikini and casually walking by his lounge chair...he'll instantly recognize me and say my name...I'll slowly turn around, peer over my dark sunglasses and smile..."Hey there!" I'll remark...and well....you can imagine what would transpire hours later...maybe a fireside dinner of pork and tropical (alcoholic) drinks...a stroll on the sandy shore...moonlight...dancing at a random club...steamy flirtation...and then...well, I'd imagine it would all end at his hotel room...peeling off sweaty clothes...and fucking until the break of dawn...I can see it all so clearly in my head...the white marble floors of the hotel suite...soft, satin bed sheets covered in the smell of his cologne...the familiar hum of the A/C...and as I look out the balcony of this gorgeous fictional hotel, I see the waves breaking on the beach...the sound of the waves receding...so comforting, so soothing...his soft, rhythmic breathing...he'd never snore so loudly and look as disgusting as Dan.
WAKE UP, I have to tell myself, WAKE THE FUCK UP!
Last night, Dan and I had an argument about keeping the windows open at night...he refused to let me have the window open even a crack...yes, it's cold outside but it is fucking blazing hot inside because he refuses to even have the windows open during the day...I just hate that he decides when the temperature is pleasant...he wouldn't let me run the A/C even on the hottest days of the summer.
I hate him and he will never be as good as my fantasies...and sadly, neither will I.
Monday, October 12, 2009
"I want the one I can't have....."
"And it's driving me mad...."
I found this picture on Facebook of Anthony with his uniform on and his military haircut...he looks adorable:
Yeah, I'm a total Facebook creeper now...full blown....
Here he is at the Marine Corps ball or whatever...this is where he said he took his new girlfriend as his date:
"It's written all over my face..."
She posted pictures of them together at Knotts Scary Farm...they looks so happy together...it's nice to see him smiling...I used to smile like that with Dan...now he won't even kiss me in public to our "supposed" song...
I see her and I see what could have been if I had just taken better care of myself, not ate so much junk food, exercised more and just...tried harder to be attractive...I feel and look fat...I used to be the girl that guys noticed...but not anymore...I seldom get checked out anymore and when I do, it's by creeps...
Dan and I went to a friends birthday celebration at this club in Downtown...getting Dan to dance is like pulling teeth, so I was happy he didn't refuse when the girls and I hit the dance floor...it was nice to get all dressed up, but I nearly died wearing high heels all night...it's the only way I can get my legs to look long and lean...my weight is fucking disgusting, so my feet got tired quickly...I could barely walk by the end of the night...never mind that I was bloated and on my period the entire time...I felt like a whale...a fat, uncoordinated whale...
When I used to go to clubs, guys would come up and just dance with me...going to a club with Dan pretty much stopped any cute guys from even looking at me...the only attention I got that night was walking around by myself near the bar trying to track down the rest of our party...some guy reached out and grabbed my hand...I was so distracted and taken aback, that I didn't even look backwards to see what he looked like...I hope he was at least cute.
I want to drop 70 lbs. If I ever do, watch out world...I'll reclaim my old life back.
I found this picture on Facebook of Anthony with his uniform on and his military haircut...he looks adorable:
Yeah, I'm a total Facebook creeper now...full blown....
Here he is at the Marine Corps ball or whatever...this is where he said he took his new girlfriend as his date:
"It's written all over my face..."
She posted pictures of them together at Knotts Scary Farm...they looks so happy together...it's nice to see him smiling...I used to smile like that with Dan...now he won't even kiss me in public to our "supposed" song...
I see her and I see what could have been if I had just taken better care of myself, not ate so much junk food, exercised more and just...tried harder to be attractive...I feel and look fat...I used to be the girl that guys noticed...but not anymore...I seldom get checked out anymore and when I do, it's by creeps...
Dan and I went to a friends birthday celebration at this club in Downtown...getting Dan to dance is like pulling teeth, so I was happy he didn't refuse when the girls and I hit the dance floor...it was nice to get all dressed up, but I nearly died wearing high heels all night...it's the only way I can get my legs to look long and lean...my weight is fucking disgusting, so my feet got tired quickly...I could barely walk by the end of the night...never mind that I was bloated and on my period the entire time...I felt like a whale...a fat, uncoordinated whale...
When I used to go to clubs, guys would come up and just dance with me...going to a club with Dan pretty much stopped any cute guys from even looking at me...the only attention I got that night was walking around by myself near the bar trying to track down the rest of our party...some guy reached out and grabbed my hand...I was so distracted and taken aback, that I didn't even look backwards to see what he looked like...I hope he was at least cute.
I want to drop 70 lbs. If I ever do, watch out world...I'll reclaim my old life back.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Love Like Winter
Life is plodding along. I'm glad it's already October and the heat is gone...nothing but cold, cloudy mornings and hazy sunshine in the afternoon....the nights are bearable and I sleep better now.
But as life plods on, living with Dan continues to be insufferable.
He yells at me all the time about the stupidest shit...he always has to be right and he doesn't like to share with me...I'm starting to understand little by little why I cheat on him...it gives me a secret feeling of smug satisfaction that I did something that would potentially break his heart...so every time he says something condescending or talks down to me, I remember that not too long ago I had another man's cock rammed down my throat.
At the time of the accident, I should have broken up with him....I should said NO WE ARE NOT MOVING IN TOGETHER, gotten our money back from the landlord and told him about Edgar...I should have broken up with Dan then and there and moved on with my horrible life.
But no, instead I let it all fester and rot inside of me, I forced this "happy" situation to happen and now I'm paying for it (literally) out of my pocket and with my sanity.
When Dan snaps at me or refuses to take out the trash, I just want to scream at him and tell him about all the dirty things I've done behind his back. But I can't...I'm chained to this 1 year lease.
It's like I'm living with a big baby sometimes. All he ever wants to do is hog the computer, criticize the shows I watch and make a mess. He leaves beer bottles all over the apartment, his side of the room is a total pigsty and he never washes any of the dishes, which we agreed is fine if he cooks dinner but come on, you ate cereal out of that bowl, wash it dammit!
And you can't tell him anything...because he immediately says I'm nagging or ignores me on purpose because he knows that pisses me off.
I also believe living with Dan and living with this soul-numbing guilt is punishment enough for all I've done...all the evil I perpetrated...for turning my back on God and deciding that I wanted to live with a man who I am not married to and not attending church, for disappointing my mom and grandma by moving out, for cheating on my unsuspecting boyfriend and lying about it...for all these things and more, I am condemned to this life.
How can I even begin to tell Dan that no I don't want to marry him, ever...that I don't want to have his kids...that I don't see this relationship going anywhere...how?
Eventually, I will have to stop being a coward and just say it. And end this.
*****
On a related note, I find it uncanny that I can still have sex with Dan and not feel bad about it. I must admit, he's got skills. I think selfishly, that's one of the top reasons we're still together.
I do get bored of sleeping with the same guy for more than 2 years now (4 if you count all the years before)...so I often fantasize about past conquests and made up ones.
Like today, for example, I had a hot little day dream about sleeping with my company's Fed Ex rep. He's a nice guy, married with a wife and kids...I bet he has a cute little house somewhere in the Valley or something...a dog, a cat, a white picket fence, two car garage and the kids all go to parochial school...I bet he has a nice suburban life and enjoy all kinds of vanilla sex with his tight little wife (which I can only imagine must be nice, sunny and blond) and doesn't have a care in the whole world.
But in my fantasy, I wreck it all. I make him have sex with me all over his lush, Berber carpet...I rip his clothes off, his tie, collared shirt and slacks...all of it off and consume him quickly.
(siiiiiiiigh)
But as life plods on, living with Dan continues to be insufferable.
He yells at me all the time about the stupidest shit...he always has to be right and he doesn't like to share with me...I'm starting to understand little by little why I cheat on him...it gives me a secret feeling of smug satisfaction that I did something that would potentially break his heart...so every time he says something condescending or talks down to me, I remember that not too long ago I had another man's cock rammed down my throat.
At the time of the accident, I should have broken up with him....I should said NO WE ARE NOT MOVING IN TOGETHER, gotten our money back from the landlord and told him about Edgar...I should have broken up with Dan then and there and moved on with my horrible life.
But no, instead I let it all fester and rot inside of me, I forced this "happy" situation to happen and now I'm paying for it (literally) out of my pocket and with my sanity.
When Dan snaps at me or refuses to take out the trash, I just want to scream at him and tell him about all the dirty things I've done behind his back. But I can't...I'm chained to this 1 year lease.
It's like I'm living with a big baby sometimes. All he ever wants to do is hog the computer, criticize the shows I watch and make a mess. He leaves beer bottles all over the apartment, his side of the room is a total pigsty and he never washes any of the dishes, which we agreed is fine if he cooks dinner but come on, you ate cereal out of that bowl, wash it dammit!
And you can't tell him anything...because he immediately says I'm nagging or ignores me on purpose because he knows that pisses me off.
I also believe living with Dan and living with this soul-numbing guilt is punishment enough for all I've done...all the evil I perpetrated...for turning my back on God and deciding that I wanted to live with a man who I am not married to and not attending church, for disappointing my mom and grandma by moving out, for cheating on my unsuspecting boyfriend and lying about it...for all these things and more, I am condemned to this life.
How can I even begin to tell Dan that no I don't want to marry him, ever...that I don't want to have his kids...that I don't see this relationship going anywhere...how?
Eventually, I will have to stop being a coward and just say it. And end this.
*****
On a related note, I find it uncanny that I can still have sex with Dan and not feel bad about it. I must admit, he's got skills. I think selfishly, that's one of the top reasons we're still together.
I do get bored of sleeping with the same guy for more than 2 years now (4 if you count all the years before)...so I often fantasize about past conquests and made up ones.
Like today, for example, I had a hot little day dream about sleeping with my company's Fed Ex rep. He's a nice guy, married with a wife and kids...I bet he has a cute little house somewhere in the Valley or something...a dog, a cat, a white picket fence, two car garage and the kids all go to parochial school...I bet he has a nice suburban life and enjoy all kinds of vanilla sex with his tight little wife (which I can only imagine must be nice, sunny and blond) and doesn't have a care in the whole world.
But in my fantasy, I wreck it all. I make him have sex with me all over his lush, Berber carpet...I rip his clothes off, his tie, collared shirt and slacks...all of it off and consume him quickly.
(siiiiiiiigh)
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Where's your gavel? Your jury? What's my offense this time?
Life continues to get worse before it gets better....I'm starting to think that this whole "darkest before dawn" shit is just for losers who have good lives to begin with....
An ill-timed trip to Vegas with Dan this past weekend...we had it planned since May but the move and the bills got the best of me...and well now I have a negative balance on my checking account.
Yum.
The trip was fun, I guess...Dan and I had some good times, but mostly it all soured at the end and we basically took our bickering out on a road trip...just the same bullshit. I don't know why I thought moving out with him was a good idea, when the fights and squabbles were so glaringly obvious to both of us.
I loathe him sometimes. Too much to explain.
Broke and angry, I find out that Anthony is seeing a new girl:
[3:50:56 PM] Anthony: I have some news for ya
[3:50:59 PM] Anthony: hahaha
[3:51:00 PM] me: oh yeah?
[3:51:10 PM] me: what?
[3:51:10 PM] Anthony: I met someone finally
[3:51:21 PM] me: happy day!!
[3:51:32 PM] Anthony: yeah, I was introduced
[3:51:40 PM] Anthony: she's great, almost too good to be true
Knife through my motherfucking heart. Yeah, I do deserve that. It's my mantra now....yeah, I had it coming.
My jealousy creeps into my heart...he shows me her picture:
Oh, Anthony is not done yet:
[3:54:36 PM] Anthony: we were distant at first but as the night went out started making out (this is at a party btw) and went to the restroom for privacy
[3:54:49 PM] Anthony: and came this (-) close to sex
[3:54:53 PM] Anthony: but I was like "we should wait"
[3:55:00 PM] Anthony: so, I guess I really like her
[3:55:01 PM] Anthony: haha
He gushes over her for most of the conversation:
[4:00:00 PM] Anthony: haha
[4:00:18 PM] Anthony: she doesn't like that I'm a Marine
[4:00:23 PM] Anthony: and I was like "I hate it too!!!"
[4:00:32 PM] Anthony: she laughed
[4:00:35 PM] Anthony: x2 BONUS
*sigh*
Then I see a picture of my ex Paul on Facebook and I decide it's time to evaluate where I went wrong:
Yeah, I used to fuck this guy on the regular...he looks like a handsome geek model, right? I think he's gorgeous....I miss his voice...I miss...so much about him.
I miss my old life. Dates, being broke but being happy...kissing a hot white guy on cold Berkeley nights...never worrying about money.
Now I'm unhappy and broke, living with the biggest dick in all of Reseda. I hate my life and who I've become.
An ill-timed trip to Vegas with Dan this past weekend...we had it planned since May but the move and the bills got the best of me...and well now I have a negative balance on my checking account.
Yum.
The trip was fun, I guess...Dan and I had some good times, but mostly it all soured at the end and we basically took our bickering out on a road trip...just the same bullshit. I don't know why I thought moving out with him was a good idea, when the fights and squabbles were so glaringly obvious to both of us.
I loathe him sometimes. Too much to explain.
Broke and angry, I find out that Anthony is seeing a new girl:
[3:50:56 PM] Anthony: I have some news for ya
[3:50:59 PM] Anthony: hahaha
[3:51:00 PM] me: oh yeah?
[3:51:10 PM] me: what?
[3:51:10 PM] Anthony: I met someone finally
[3:51:21 PM] me: happy day!!
[3:51:32 PM] Anthony: yeah, I was introduced
[3:51:40 PM] Anthony: she's great, almost too good to be true
Knife through my motherfucking heart. Yeah, I do deserve that. It's my mantra now....yeah, I had it coming.
My jealousy creeps into my heart...he shows me her picture:
Oh, Anthony is not done yet:
[3:54:36 PM] Anthony: we were distant at first but as the night went out started making out (this is at a party btw) and went to the restroom for privacy
[3:54:49 PM] Anthony: and came this (-) close to sex
[3:54:53 PM] Anthony: but I was like "we should wait"
[3:55:00 PM] Anthony: so, I guess I really like her
[3:55:01 PM] Anthony: haha
He gushes over her for most of the conversation:
[4:00:00 PM] Anthony: haha
[4:00:18 PM] Anthony: she doesn't like that I'm a Marine
[4:00:23 PM] Anthony: and I was like "I hate it too!!!"
[4:00:32 PM] Anthony: she laughed
[4:00:35 PM] Anthony: x2 BONUS
*sigh*
Then I see a picture of my ex Paul on Facebook and I decide it's time to evaluate where I went wrong:
Yeah, I used to fuck this guy on the regular...he looks like a handsome geek model, right? I think he's gorgeous....I miss his voice...I miss...so much about him.
I miss my old life. Dates, being broke but being happy...kissing a hot white guy on cold Berkeley nights...never worrying about money.
Now I'm unhappy and broke, living with the biggest dick in all of Reseda. I hate my life and who I've become.
Monday, September 21, 2009
No sign of love behind the tears....
It has been 3 weeks since I moved in with Dan and I feel tired....I feel like I made a big mistake...like I'm drowning in debt and slowly losing my mind and my money.
The car accident should have been my wake up call. I should have said "NO" to moving out with Dan and just stayed home with my mom...I took a big risk and now I wonder if it was even a good idea.
Living with Dan is a pain sometimes...he's messy, unfocused and careless...he leaves dishes lying around and never puts things back in their place...and the more I tell him, the more he accuses me of nagging him.
See, I knew all this going into it and I still went through with the move....now I feel trapped on a year long lease I don't want.
There are fun parts...Dan's a good cook and I love the food he makes...he's lost 10 pounds since we've moved in, which is great...except I haven't lost any.
We get to have sex at least 1 or 2 a week....but only when he feels up to it. Argh.
We sleep in the same bed and don't have to stay up talking on the phone...but he snores and it keeps me up...I have to sleep with ear plugs on.
Reseda is close to work and I have a shorter commute...except it's always 10 degrees hotter there and the sun hits me in the face when I drive home...even with the visor on. Even on weekends, it takes almost an hour to go visit my folks and his...I don't see how I'm saving gas money or putting less miles on my car.
I hate this new life. I hate it more than I enjoy it.
Even with the internet and cable TV, I feel lonely. I feel like there's more for me out there...I feel like I should have taken the safe road and just stayed with my family...I miss my bed, I miss my cat and I miss my mom...I miss my grandma and I miss my aunt and I miss my brothers. I feel like crying every time I think about them.
Worse yet, I've stopped going to church...I feel like God is really disappointed in me now...I can't go to church or receive communion now because I'm living in sin with my boyfriend and having way too much premarital sex. I feel worse about myself than ever before...even when I was cheating.
Ah, the cheating...I thought it would go away, but I still have bad thoughts...dirty, secret thoughts about other guys....
It seems any available guy I know or have had a romantic relationship is cropping up on my Facebook...
Rob...oh those were good times...he was always too broke or distracted to keep up with me, but I can still remember how quickly he came in my mouth the first time I sucked him off...we're friends now on Facebook...I cheated on my good-for-nothing ex-boyfriend Alberto with Rob back in early 2007...Rob is a big drinker and pot smoker and the best guy everrrrr to talk music with...I would love to just chill out with him on a lazy Saturday afternoon and listen to classic rock records (King Crimson, Zeppelin, Stones) and fuck.
Speaking of sorry bastards, Alberto was suggested by Facebook as a new friend...I made sure to erase that notice. He can go to hell.
I see updates on Facebook from time to time about my ex Paul...such a nice, nice guy...always too busy for me or allergic to commitment....maybe a little of both...Dan and I actually got to hang out with him early this year at my old college....a real classy dude...he'd never go for any backdoor shenanigans with me...he's harmless, like a dolphin...I don't regret taking his virginity card or getting fucking drunk with him on school nights. :)
I restrain myself from checking Edgar's MySpace (he's too much of a loser to get a Facebook)....but I do wildly think about finishing my lease with Dan next summer, moving back in with my folks and resuming my clandestine maneuvers with him....but knowing him, the allure and mystique of being "the other man" would be gone and interest in me would diminish.
The weirdest one of the bunch would be all these new thoughts I'm having about my friend Anthony....we've been platonic friends since my sophomore year in college...we keep a very cordial correspondence and have stayed in relatively good contact despite my life in L.A. and his life as a United States Marine. I saw pictures of him on Facebook, all grown up and looking so handsome in uniform...I don't know why we never dated...I know I couldn't maintain any sort of serious relationship with him as he does a lot of things that drive me crazy. For starters, he's a Marine for fuck sake...I am a pretty moderate democrat, but war just does not agree with me...I think most soldiers are brain washed meat heads...Anthony's pretty smart, but most of the time I feel he's too smart for this whole military career he's planned out for himself. Secondly, he's way too conservative and way too racist for my taste....it's a major turn off...plus, he hates liberals...and though I'm pretty moderate when it comes to the big issues, I'm still a bleeding heart Berkeley liberal...hearing Anthony talk politics back in July as I tried to romance him with alcohol and Mexican food, I slowly felt my patience starting to thin with him...the more he talked, the more angry I got, the more I wanted to fuck him....every time he's on leave, I want him to come see me...he talks to me like I'm another buddy of his at the barracks....he whines about wanting to bang girls when he's off base or before he gets deployed to Afghanistan and I have to bit my tongue not to tell him to do me instead...I would make it so easy for him.
In the end, I'm too scared to make anymore moves on any of these guys...Dan might not be as handsome or as thin as my old flames but at least he treats me nice enough...he wants to live with me and spend all day with me....I am truly dirt for all I've done...I feel like I deserve everything bad that happens to me...
Maybe out there, the alternate reality me is sipping a Vodka cranberry and falling asleep in the arms of a handsome boy, with no debts, no worries, no reason to ever cry...
The car accident should have been my wake up call. I should have said "NO" to moving out with Dan and just stayed home with my mom...I took a big risk and now I wonder if it was even a good idea.
Living with Dan is a pain sometimes...he's messy, unfocused and careless...he leaves dishes lying around and never puts things back in their place...and the more I tell him, the more he accuses me of nagging him.
See, I knew all this going into it and I still went through with the move....now I feel trapped on a year long lease I don't want.
There are fun parts...Dan's a good cook and I love the food he makes...he's lost 10 pounds since we've moved in, which is great...except I haven't lost any.
We get to have sex at least 1 or 2 a week....but only when he feels up to it. Argh.
We sleep in the same bed and don't have to stay up talking on the phone...but he snores and it keeps me up...I have to sleep with ear plugs on.
Reseda is close to work and I have a shorter commute...except it's always 10 degrees hotter there and the sun hits me in the face when I drive home...even with the visor on. Even on weekends, it takes almost an hour to go visit my folks and his...I don't see how I'm saving gas money or putting less miles on my car.
I hate this new life. I hate it more than I enjoy it.
Even with the internet and cable TV, I feel lonely. I feel like there's more for me out there...I feel like I should have taken the safe road and just stayed with my family...I miss my bed, I miss my cat and I miss my mom...I miss my grandma and I miss my aunt and I miss my brothers. I feel like crying every time I think about them.
Worse yet, I've stopped going to church...I feel like God is really disappointed in me now...I can't go to church or receive communion now because I'm living in sin with my boyfriend and having way too much premarital sex. I feel worse about myself than ever before...even when I was cheating.
Ah, the cheating...I thought it would go away, but I still have bad thoughts...dirty, secret thoughts about other guys....
It seems any available guy I know or have had a romantic relationship is cropping up on my Facebook...
Rob...oh those were good times...he was always too broke or distracted to keep up with me, but I can still remember how quickly he came in my mouth the first time I sucked him off...we're friends now on Facebook...I cheated on my good-for-nothing ex-boyfriend Alberto with Rob back in early 2007...Rob is a big drinker and pot smoker and the best guy everrrrr to talk music with...I would love to just chill out with him on a lazy Saturday afternoon and listen to classic rock records (King Crimson, Zeppelin, Stones) and fuck.
Speaking of sorry bastards, Alberto was suggested by Facebook as a new friend...I made sure to erase that notice. He can go to hell.
I see updates on Facebook from time to time about my ex Paul...such a nice, nice guy...always too busy for me or allergic to commitment....maybe a little of both...Dan and I actually got to hang out with him early this year at my old college....a real classy dude...he'd never go for any backdoor shenanigans with me...he's harmless, like a dolphin...I don't regret taking his virginity card or getting fucking drunk with him on school nights. :)
I restrain myself from checking Edgar's MySpace (he's too much of a loser to get a Facebook)....but I do wildly think about finishing my lease with Dan next summer, moving back in with my folks and resuming my clandestine maneuvers with him....but knowing him, the allure and mystique of being "the other man" would be gone and interest in me would diminish.
The weirdest one of the bunch would be all these new thoughts I'm having about my friend Anthony....we've been platonic friends since my sophomore year in college...we keep a very cordial correspondence and have stayed in relatively good contact despite my life in L.A. and his life as a United States Marine. I saw pictures of him on Facebook, all grown up and looking so handsome in uniform...I don't know why we never dated...I know I couldn't maintain any sort of serious relationship with him as he does a lot of things that drive me crazy. For starters, he's a Marine for fuck sake...I am a pretty moderate democrat, but war just does not agree with me...I think most soldiers are brain washed meat heads...Anthony's pretty smart, but most of the time I feel he's too smart for this whole military career he's planned out for himself. Secondly, he's way too conservative and way too racist for my taste....it's a major turn off...plus, he hates liberals...and though I'm pretty moderate when it comes to the big issues, I'm still a bleeding heart Berkeley liberal...hearing Anthony talk politics back in July as I tried to romance him with alcohol and Mexican food, I slowly felt my patience starting to thin with him...the more he talked, the more angry I got, the more I wanted to fuck him....every time he's on leave, I want him to come see me...he talks to me like I'm another buddy of his at the barracks....he whines about wanting to bang girls when he's off base or before he gets deployed to Afghanistan and I have to bit my tongue not to tell him to do me instead...I would make it so easy for him.
In the end, I'm too scared to make anymore moves on any of these guys...Dan might not be as handsome or as thin as my old flames but at least he treats me nice enough...he wants to live with me and spend all day with me....I am truly dirt for all I've done...I feel like I deserve everything bad that happens to me...
Maybe out there, the alternate reality me is sipping a Vodka cranberry and falling asleep in the arms of a handsome boy, with no debts, no worries, no reason to ever cry...
Monday, August 31, 2009
"We were never meant to be, baby, we just happened..."
I thought I was done with him.....
Then he goes and post this on MySpace....
Aug 28, 2009 9:56 AM
Subject: I Have A Feeling that tonights gonna be a good night
Hey all,
Just a reminder that tonight is my b-day party it starts at 9 i hope to see you all there and just remember the earlier you get there the better chance you have of seeing me sober.
The party starts at nine and will be held at the Dawghouse which is located on 15351 Gale aveIndustry CA , 91745
I was not given an invitation...and when I asked him what he was doing on his birthday a few weeks ago (being a sick stalker, I already knew about this party), he lied and said he didn't know...that his friends "might" do something that would inevitably fall through...
FUCK YOU.
I don't want to be with a guy who quotes lame Black Eyed Peas songs...I don't even fit in his world...I could only imagine how awkward and out of place I'd be at some party, at a place called "Dawghouse"...
them: Hey, how do you know the birthday boy?
me: Oh well...we were friends in high school...then I blew him like half a dozen times over the course of 3 years.
The night of the party, I helped Dan pack his stuff. We moved out of our parents house and tonight we spend our first night together in the new apartment. And you know what, I'm happy. I feel safe. I feel supported. I feel like I matter again...
It stings, but you're gone Edgar....it's done, it's over...I guess this is the purge....all the vomit, ill-feelings, bile, putrid waste I had harboring in my heart...it can all come out.
I welcome catharsis.
Then he goes and post this on MySpace....
Aug 28, 2009 9:56 AM
Subject: I Have A Feeling that tonights gonna be a good night
Hey all,
Just a reminder that tonight is my b-day party it starts at 9 i hope to see you all there and just remember the earlier you get there the better chance you have of seeing me sober.
The party starts at nine and will be held at the Dawghouse which is located on 15351 Gale ave
I was not given an invitation...and when I asked him what he was doing on his birthday a few weeks ago (being a sick stalker, I already knew about this party), he lied and said he didn't know...that his friends "might" do something that would inevitably fall through...
FUCK YOU.
I don't want to be with a guy who quotes lame Black Eyed Peas songs...I don't even fit in his world...I could only imagine how awkward and out of place I'd be at some party, at a place called "Dawghouse"...
them: Hey, how do you know the birthday boy?
me: Oh well...we were friends in high school...then I blew him like half a dozen times over the course of 3 years.
The night of the party, I helped Dan pack his stuff. We moved out of our parents house and tonight we spend our first night together in the new apartment. And you know what, I'm happy. I feel safe. I feel supported. I feel like I matter again...
It stings, but you're gone Edgar....it's done, it's over...I guess this is the purge....all the vomit, ill-feelings, bile, putrid waste I had harboring in my heart...it can all come out.
I welcome catharsis.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
I've come to wish you an unhappy birthday....
It's your 25th birthday today....
I am ready to forget you, Edgar.
We have caused enough silent turmoil....mostly to me and my gnawing conscience. I am ready to finish this lust affair that lives only in my memories.
Did I dream it? Was it a nightmare? Why did it feel so good but then so horrible? WHY WOULD I WANT THAT?
Always the desperate type, I text you:
"Happy Birthday! See, I didn't forget."
I remembered today....but I am ready to forget you...
I have to.
I am ready to forget you, Edgar.
We have caused enough silent turmoil....mostly to me and my gnawing conscience. I am ready to finish this lust affair that lives only in my memories.
Did I dream it? Was it a nightmare? Why did it feel so good but then so horrible? WHY WOULD I WANT THAT?
Always the desperate type, I text you:
"Happy Birthday! See, I didn't forget."
I remembered today....but I am ready to forget you...
I have to.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
How many ways do you wanna die?
I keep hoping for it to get better, for life to improve...but I feel like life doesn't want to help me...it wants to break me down and spit me out. This has to be the single most unluckiest time in my life.
*Dan and I handed in our first month's rent for our new apartment on Saturday. I tried not to flinch when I took a look at my bank account. At least I still had $1,000+ to my name. I won't have that much for a while.
*After much debate and heartache, I finally decided to fork over $600 that I don't have to fix my car through my insurance. My older brother is going to bail me out and lend me $400 to meet the $1,000 deductible. I flinch, cringe and squeeze my eyes in terror to think about my bank account this coming week.
The worst was over, I thought. I sent Edgar a text to formally end our tryst. I had promised to let him know if we got the place in Reseda. My fingers stumbled, I practiced what I'd type in my head...it felt like slow motion. The hours drifted at our family gathering and I waited until Dan was safely home in East L.A. before grabbing my phone. It was time to put an end to what had been scrambling my insides for well over a year.
me: Got the place in Reseda. Paid first month's rent already. We move in Sept. 1st
almost two hours later....
Edgar: Congrats i wish u the best of luck u deserve it.
my insides churn....
me: Thanks. Good luck in law school and don't forget me.
Shit...that sounds needy...like I'm not over it...
Edgar: I wont forget u or ur b-day
I smile....it's a reference to one of our last conversations in which we teased each other for not remember each other's birthday....his is in two days, mine 3 days before Christmas...like a flash, I remember Dan playfully looking at my datebook and asking why I had circled August 25th as "Eddie's Birthday." I lied and said it was our family friend....did he know I secretly called Edgar by a nickname? Guess not.
me: Same here. Good nite.
Good. Done. It's over.
Dan invites me over to his house for a barbecue with his parents. He says to show up around 4. I try to be fashionably late and arrive around 4:35 pm. There are no cars in the driveway, Dan's phone is going straight to voicemail and the answering machine picks up...frustrated, I kill time and talk to my insane friend Chrissy...for 45 fucking minutes. Still no one shows up at Dan's home. I text Dan's mom, asking if he's left his phone behind or something....I'm too embarrassed to tell her I've been waiting for well over an hour infront of their house. She tells me his phone has no charge; no clues as to what's going on. I decide to leave and show my sorry face to my family, who then proceed to berate me.
"Maybe you should rethink moving in with him..." On and on...ughhhhhh. I secretly fight back my own tears behind my pair of Ray Bans. Half of my family scolds me, the other half are indifferent or try to stick up for me.
I feel like a failure.
Dan calls me at 6:30. Two and a half fucking hours later than he should have.
I take out my frustration on him and hang up, cutting him off and not letting that spineless creature get a word in edge-wise. I just want to be moved in so this shit can just end.
I am a hopeless, clumsy character. I can't mend or fix things correctly. I just stormed off on my future roomate, the man I'm supposed to be living and making a home with.
I feel terrible and continue to rot.
I think of Edgar....I think of Voltaire's Candide and how Edgar had done his best to summarize it for me...how this life we have now is the best possible world we could ever have...
Could there not be a world out there in a parallel universe where he and I could be two working professionals, living in a beautiful high rise apartment....he a young lawyer and me an aspiring filmmaker with a promising screenwriting career..attending punk rock shows on Saturdays and Catholic Mass on Sundays. We'd make love furiously and nothing would ever hurt us.
But no. Instead I have a shit ton of guilt, an expensive car repair bill to pay and a boyfriend who is probably regretting forking over rent money to put up with my shit...
I continue to rot away.
*Dan and I handed in our first month's rent for our new apartment on Saturday. I tried not to flinch when I took a look at my bank account. At least I still had $1,000+ to my name. I won't have that much for a while.
*After much debate and heartache, I finally decided to fork over $600 that I don't have to fix my car through my insurance. My older brother is going to bail me out and lend me $400 to meet the $1,000 deductible. I flinch, cringe and squeeze my eyes in terror to think about my bank account this coming week.
The worst was over, I thought. I sent Edgar a text to formally end our tryst. I had promised to let him know if we got the place in Reseda. My fingers stumbled, I practiced what I'd type in my head...it felt like slow motion. The hours drifted at our family gathering and I waited until Dan was safely home in East L.A. before grabbing my phone. It was time to put an end to what had been scrambling my insides for well over a year.
me: Got the place in Reseda. Paid first month's rent already. We move in Sept. 1st
almost two hours later....
Edgar: Congrats i wish u the best of luck u deserve it.
my insides churn....
me: Thanks. Good luck in law school and don't forget me.
Shit...that sounds needy...like I'm not over it...
Edgar: I wont forget u or ur b-day
I smile....it's a reference to one of our last conversations in which we teased each other for not remember each other's birthday....his is in two days, mine 3 days before Christmas...like a flash, I remember Dan playfully looking at my datebook and asking why I had circled August 25th as "Eddie's Birthday." I lied and said it was our family friend....did he know I secretly called Edgar by a nickname? Guess not.
me: Same here. Good nite.
Good. Done. It's over.
Dan invites me over to his house for a barbecue with his parents. He says to show up around 4. I try to be fashionably late and arrive around 4:35 pm. There are no cars in the driveway, Dan's phone is going straight to voicemail and the answering machine picks up...frustrated, I kill time and talk to my insane friend Chrissy...for 45 fucking minutes. Still no one shows up at Dan's home. I text Dan's mom, asking if he's left his phone behind or something....I'm too embarrassed to tell her I've been waiting for well over an hour infront of their house. She tells me his phone has no charge; no clues as to what's going on. I decide to leave and show my sorry face to my family, who then proceed to berate me.
"Maybe you should rethink moving in with him..." On and on...ughhhhhh. I secretly fight back my own tears behind my pair of Ray Bans. Half of my family scolds me, the other half are indifferent or try to stick up for me.
I feel like a failure.
Dan calls me at 6:30. Two and a half fucking hours later than he should have.
I take out my frustration on him and hang up, cutting him off and not letting that spineless creature get a word in edge-wise. I just want to be moved in so this shit can just end.
I am a hopeless, clumsy character. I can't mend or fix things correctly. I just stormed off on my future roomate, the man I'm supposed to be living and making a home with.
I feel terrible and continue to rot.
I think of Edgar....I think of Voltaire's Candide and how Edgar had done his best to summarize it for me...how this life we have now is the best possible world we could ever have...
Could there not be a world out there in a parallel universe where he and I could be two working professionals, living in a beautiful high rise apartment....he a young lawyer and me an aspiring filmmaker with a promising screenwriting career..attending punk rock shows on Saturdays and Catholic Mass on Sundays. We'd make love furiously and nothing would ever hurt us.
But no. Instead I have a shit ton of guilt, an expensive car repair bill to pay and a boyfriend who is probably regretting forking over rent money to put up with my shit...
I continue to rot away.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
consequences
I cheated on Dan and that's why I got in a car accident.
....
Perhaps I should start at the beginning....
Back in college, I kept track of all my adventures in the dating world in a simple little blog called ujournal....the site went kaput so I moved over to greatestjournal which took a couple of years to also go dead. Both websites are now gone. I had nowhere left to write. But then again, I had also lost my desire to write. I was 24, through with college, and in a healthy relationship with Dan.
Oh, but he deserves an explanation all to himself: the reason I began to blog about my exploits was because of him. He had two years of my life all to himself. We were in our senior year of high school and very much in love. College took us to opposite ends of the country and we tried desperately to stay together...but then life happened, as it always does and we moved on with different people. Rather, I began to chase after boys who were flippant about me and Dan sped away into a 3 year relationship with a massive bitch. I typed and typed to maintain sanity. To heal myself. To give myself closure. To document failed hook-ups and lament failed relationships. It was 3 years of dating and so much Goddamn bullshit from guys.
I had just made it over alive from a really bad breakup...it was summer of 2007 and I was broken. I had been out of college only a year. Dan called me out of the blue. Any rage or ill feelings from our past had subsided. I was ready to be happy again. Slowly we returned to our old tricks and were back as a couple. It was better now. We had well paying jobs, cars and freedom. Things were looking up.
We progressed. And with progression comes all the nasty/wonderful things about being a couple. Fights, squabbles, figuring out who pays what, deciding what you want to do that night, sex, getting on each other's nerves, trips to Vegas, fun with friends, drinks, pot, how much should I tip? Mother's Day gifts, birthdays, parties, hotel rooms, jealousy, name-calling, concerts, flowers "just cuz" and on and on, etc. etc.
We were scarcely a couple one year when I decided now would be a good time to cheat.
I really don't think that's how the thought process went. I think it was Fourth of July weekend and I was out getting hammered with my co-workers. Dan wasn't going to see me that night because my booze breath was visible through the phone. I was in no shape ready to meet up with him to go swimming in La Mirada, more than 30 miles away. It was getting too late for a swim, so I concentrated on sobering up...and trying to find a different distraction.
Edgar Cruz was a boy I dated off and on in college. I had harbored a huge crush on him as a high school freshman. By the time I was single and a college sophomore, all I wanted was to score with him as a favor to my former, geeky 14 year old self.
Edgar is your typical insecure Mexican American college boy. Loves to romance, flirt and exchange bodily fluids but when it comes to forming a long, lasting meaninful relationship, he's out the door...speeding away in his cute little 2-door Solara. Our cellphones were our undoing.
He texted me, called me even though he knew about Dan. He had done this prior with all my former "steady" boyfriends. He felt, I don't know, that he could lay claims to me ever since that night I blew him in his car during Spring Break. He disguised this as "keeping in touch."
At first, it was very easy to ignore his call. Angrily hang up or erase his texts. But then my resistance started to crumble. I was horny, drunk and had been courteously dismissed by my loving boyfriend. In the haze of my fourth Mai-Tai, I remembered Edgar had dialed me a few nights previous. Surely he'd still be in for a good time. I don't know why impulse won, but it did. Maybe I was mad at something Dan had done earlier in the week...maybe I was just born rotten.
July 2008. I gave Edgar a blow job and riddled myself with guilt for weeks, months....
It was thrilling but stupid. Edgar sporadically contacted me here and there....I never forgot and neither did he. We didn't start to justify our actions until the next time.
June 2009. Edgar had called me earlier in the night to tell me the good news: he was finally done with undergrad and was getting ready for his LSATS. I kept my voice barely above a whisper as I congratulated him....Dan hovered around me and I could feel myself sweating under the hot lights of the comic book store. He asked who that was, I said it was someone from Berkeley. We walked to another book store and I feverishly texted Edgar back. I wanted him. Why? WHY? Dan and I had just finished walking around Walmart, another night of no sex and no real plans. Bored, we both went home. The evil cellphone lit up. I waited patiently for more than an hour, waiting for Edgar to show up at my house before sneaking off. He was drunk. I was insatiable. We promised to never do this again because it was wrong. But it was a bold faced lie. I accidentally left my cell in his car along with my sweater. I didn't sleep that night, trying desperately for a good cover story. The following day, I lied so much I wanted to vomit. I got him to return the phone...we were undetected. Nobody knew.
By now, I am having problems with my conscience and with God. I know I am skating on thin ice. I feel like the sin inside of me is black bile. At any moment, I will throw it all up.
Last week, Edgar calls again...surprised that he'd find me after feeling so guilty the last time, I decide to see if he's serious. I turn him down twice to hang out. I know that hang out means BLOW ME.
Saturday night, Dan and I adjourn early. We're set to move in together and have spent the better half of the day turning in our application for a cute little 1-bedroom in Reseda. The odds are in our favor. I am ready to move out and get serious.
This is our last chance. Our last time to get what Edgar and I most desire. Time alone to talk, laugh and make out. His reasons are different than my reasons. We both arrive at the same conclusion: hedonism beats out having good morals. Perhaps in future entries I can explain why I enjoyed spending time in the shadows with a guy everyone thinks I hate.
We drove all around Downtown Los Angeles, Pasadena and Whittier before parking the car in our assigned spot. Bexley Street, where Dan and I used to go fuck back when we had no standards. It had now become our spot. Depeche Mode's "Free Love" came on just as we began to kiss each other all over. "Enjoy the Silence" followed and he came in my mouth before the song was over.
"Good luck on your new life" he said as I stumbled out of his car. One last, long drawn out kiss. I wished him the best, too in law school, life and everything else. "Stay this way. Stay skinny, keep wearing your Lawrence Arms shirts and Cons. Don't let anybody tell you that you're not good enough" I gulped...I hit my head on his car door on my way out.
That was it.
No, it wasn't. Dan saw my dialed calls to Edgar the next night on our way to see Depeche Mode. I yelped that he had called ME and I was merely returning the call. I lied again and said Edgar was also going to the show. Yeah. Right.
I got a flat tire at the show. That sharp piece of plastic might as well have gone through my miserable, guilt ridden heart.
Some dick stole the plastic screens that go under my headlights of my car. I felt helpless.
Then I got in an accident. With Dan in the car.
I am paying for all that I've done. I am cursed. God has turned his back on me, and rightfully so. Now everytime something unfair or stupid happens to me, I can look up at the heavens and say, I DESERVE THAT.
Starting this journal is my meager attempt to try and turn the tide. I need to confess because I don't feel like my religion can save me right now. I am scum and I don't deserve anyone's pity.
I did this to myself.
....
Perhaps I should start at the beginning....
Back in college, I kept track of all my adventures in the dating world in a simple little blog called ujournal....the site went kaput so I moved over to greatestjournal which took a couple of years to also go dead. Both websites are now gone. I had nowhere left to write. But then again, I had also lost my desire to write. I was 24, through with college, and in a healthy relationship with Dan.
Oh, but he deserves an explanation all to himself: the reason I began to blog about my exploits was because of him. He had two years of my life all to himself. We were in our senior year of high school and very much in love. College took us to opposite ends of the country and we tried desperately to stay together...but then life happened, as it always does and we moved on with different people. Rather, I began to chase after boys who were flippant about me and Dan sped away into a 3 year relationship with a massive bitch. I typed and typed to maintain sanity. To heal myself. To give myself closure. To document failed hook-ups and lament failed relationships. It was 3 years of dating and so much Goddamn bullshit from guys.
I had just made it over alive from a really bad breakup...it was summer of 2007 and I was broken. I had been out of college only a year. Dan called me out of the blue. Any rage or ill feelings from our past had subsided. I was ready to be happy again. Slowly we returned to our old tricks and were back as a couple. It was better now. We had well paying jobs, cars and freedom. Things were looking up.
We progressed. And with progression comes all the nasty/wonderful things about being a couple. Fights, squabbles, figuring out who pays what, deciding what you want to do that night, sex, getting on each other's nerves, trips to Vegas, fun with friends, drinks, pot, how much should I tip? Mother's Day gifts, birthdays, parties, hotel rooms, jealousy, name-calling, concerts, flowers "just cuz" and on and on, etc. etc.
We were scarcely a couple one year when I decided now would be a good time to cheat.
I really don't think that's how the thought process went. I think it was Fourth of July weekend and I was out getting hammered with my co-workers. Dan wasn't going to see me that night because my booze breath was visible through the phone. I was in no shape ready to meet up with him to go swimming in La Mirada, more than 30 miles away. It was getting too late for a swim, so I concentrated on sobering up...and trying to find a different distraction.
Edgar Cruz was a boy I dated off and on in college. I had harbored a huge crush on him as a high school freshman. By the time I was single and a college sophomore, all I wanted was to score with him as a favor to my former, geeky 14 year old self.
Edgar is your typical insecure Mexican American college boy. Loves to romance, flirt and exchange bodily fluids but when it comes to forming a long, lasting meaninful relationship, he's out the door...speeding away in his cute little 2-door Solara. Our cellphones were our undoing.
He texted me, called me even though he knew about Dan. He had done this prior with all my former "steady" boyfriends. He felt, I don't know, that he could lay claims to me ever since that night I blew him in his car during Spring Break. He disguised this as "keeping in touch."
At first, it was very easy to ignore his call. Angrily hang up or erase his texts. But then my resistance started to crumble. I was horny, drunk and had been courteously dismissed by my loving boyfriend. In the haze of my fourth Mai-Tai, I remembered Edgar had dialed me a few nights previous. Surely he'd still be in for a good time. I don't know why impulse won, but it did. Maybe I was mad at something Dan had done earlier in the week...maybe I was just born rotten.
July 2008. I gave Edgar a blow job and riddled myself with guilt for weeks, months....
It was thrilling but stupid. Edgar sporadically contacted me here and there....I never forgot and neither did he. We didn't start to justify our actions until the next time.
June 2009. Edgar had called me earlier in the night to tell me the good news: he was finally done with undergrad and was getting ready for his LSATS. I kept my voice barely above a whisper as I congratulated him....Dan hovered around me and I could feel myself sweating under the hot lights of the comic book store. He asked who that was, I said it was someone from Berkeley. We walked to another book store and I feverishly texted Edgar back. I wanted him. Why? WHY? Dan and I had just finished walking around Walmart, another night of no sex and no real plans. Bored, we both went home. The evil cellphone lit up. I waited patiently for more than an hour, waiting for Edgar to show up at my house before sneaking off. He was drunk. I was insatiable. We promised to never do this again because it was wrong. But it was a bold faced lie. I accidentally left my cell in his car along with my sweater. I didn't sleep that night, trying desperately for a good cover story. The following day, I lied so much I wanted to vomit. I got him to return the phone...we were undetected. Nobody knew.
By now, I am having problems with my conscience and with God. I know I am skating on thin ice. I feel like the sin inside of me is black bile. At any moment, I will throw it all up.
Last week, Edgar calls again...surprised that he'd find me after feeling so guilty the last time, I decide to see if he's serious. I turn him down twice to hang out. I know that hang out means BLOW ME.
Saturday night, Dan and I adjourn early. We're set to move in together and have spent the better half of the day turning in our application for a cute little 1-bedroom in Reseda. The odds are in our favor. I am ready to move out and get serious.
This is our last chance. Our last time to get what Edgar and I most desire. Time alone to talk, laugh and make out. His reasons are different than my reasons. We both arrive at the same conclusion: hedonism beats out having good morals. Perhaps in future entries I can explain why I enjoyed spending time in the shadows with a guy everyone thinks I hate.
We drove all around Downtown Los Angeles, Pasadena and Whittier before parking the car in our assigned spot. Bexley Street, where Dan and I used to go fuck back when we had no standards. It had now become our spot. Depeche Mode's "Free Love" came on just as we began to kiss each other all over. "Enjoy the Silence" followed and he came in my mouth before the song was over.
"Good luck on your new life" he said as I stumbled out of his car. One last, long drawn out kiss. I wished him the best, too in law school, life and everything else. "Stay this way. Stay skinny, keep wearing your Lawrence Arms shirts and Cons. Don't let anybody tell you that you're not good enough" I gulped...I hit my head on his car door on my way out.
That was it.
No, it wasn't. Dan saw my dialed calls to Edgar the next night on our way to see Depeche Mode. I yelped that he had called ME and I was merely returning the call. I lied again and said Edgar was also going to the show. Yeah. Right.
I got a flat tire at the show. That sharp piece of plastic might as well have gone through my miserable, guilt ridden heart.
Some dick stole the plastic screens that go under my headlights of my car. I felt helpless.
Then I got in an accident. With Dan in the car.
I am paying for all that I've done. I am cursed. God has turned his back on me, and rightfully so. Now everytime something unfair or stupid happens to me, I can look up at the heavens and say, I DESERVE THAT.
Starting this journal is my meager attempt to try and turn the tide. I need to confess because I don't feel like my religion can save me right now. I am scum and I don't deserve anyone's pity.
I did this to myself.
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