Archive for January, 2011

The summer we had those Six Flags: Discovery Kingdom season passes was such a good summer. Even though I was planning on leaving you at the end of it and told you so several times. Seeing all those crappy bands and elephants was great. And seeing the flamingo eggs at the beginning of the summer, and then when they were practically grown up and not cute anymore at the end of it – that was, like, symbolic or something. You made me go on roller-coasters for the first time in my life. I loved you and trusted you so much, even though I wasn’t in love with you anymore. If I ever was.

I really think those roller-coasters are the reason I lived through my motorcycle accident, because flipping through the air wasn’t as alarming as it could have been. So I landed pretty relaxed in the middle of that intersection, on that first date with my new bad boy. You visited me in the hospital when he was there too. You were so nice about it. You really are a great friend. And best friends is all we ever should have been. I’m sorry I didn’t break up with you a year before I did so you could get together with your new girlfriend sooner. I’ve always liked her and I know you will ask her to marry you when you turn 30. And I’m happy about that. I bet she’s really nice to you. I bet she never cries in front of you for 2 hours straight or embarrasses you in public. I bet she wants to have kids. I still have baggage from us that I’m dealing with. Sometimes I want to yell at you, but I know you will just cry and take away the fun. I know you were doing your best with your low libido and my high anxiety. You tried so hard to make me happy. I am now.

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You are an Instant Classic. Unprecedented. Years from now, my friends will still be discussing you.

I met you at a bar. I have never taken a boy home from a bar before. Actually, you are kind of the first boy I ever picked up at all. My friend mistook you for a buddy of mine. You thought that was our pick-up line. Really, she was just drunk. But I guess it worked, so maybe we’ll start using that on unsuspecting boys in bars all over town. Despite a plethora of scruffy tiny hipster boys in the bar that night, I kept making eyes at you. I was kind of surprised how easy it was to take you home. I loved the way you kept looking me right in the eye. Even though you were drunk, it felt like you were actually listening to me. You lent me your coat.

You stayed for brunch. All my friends were coming over. You met everyone. You acted casual. You are kind of slick, actually. It wouldn’t work on other women; I just appreciate your blatant honesty. You have this ridiculous combination of playing it cool and admitting your insecurities to me, which I find incredibly endearing.

There are so many reasons we should never date. There are innumerable ways you are not my type. Not even counting how young you are. Beside that, I don’t want to hurt you. I feel slightly less nervous about it since you said to me “You are going to break my heart.” I guess you know what you are getting yourself into. Hopefully at least you’ll get some quality emo songwriting out of it.

You are wooing the shit out of me, though, so I can’t really resist you right now, despite the fact that you are a republican.

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You. Destroyed. Me. We were together six months. You were the boy I lost my virginity to. You said you loved me, but I’m pretty sure you never did. You broke so many promises. You broke my heart and crushed my self confidence and any sense I had of self worth. I loved you so much. After we broke up, I spent the night with your best friend. It was so hot, and just what I needed. so I just wanted to let you know that you were my first broken heart. Luckily, I found someone better. Everything I liked about you, you got from him. I still care about you, and we’re friends now that the hurt is gone. I want you to know that you can do so much better than the girl you are with now. Anyone is better than her. I hope you regret treating me like dirt the last 4 months of our relationship.

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I wonder what you were thinking after you played my message on your answering machine. Maybe you ran downstairs and played it for your mom, or invited over your girlfriends for a slumber party to laugh at the sound of Bonnie Raitt crackling through the speakers. It wasn’t meant to be anyway. You were that popular girl who wasn’t mean enough to ignore me. I was an overweight mutant from a far away galaxy. I was so nervous-excited that my palms got sweaty when we danced to 98 degrees. I tried to play it cool: I called you only once a week. Then you stopped picking up. I found my mom’s record and played it just for you; holding the phone up to the stereo. Thinking about it still makes me laugh. I hope it does the same for you. Listen: “I can’t make you love me if you don’t…”

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When you told me you had a girlfriend, I was disappointed. Fifteen minutes later, when you told me you were bisexual, I assumed that meant you were down to fuck. Okay, I didn’t assume it… but I hoped it. Fervently.

We actually got in touch after our initial random meeting, and we actually went out for drinks. Only two drinks. After two hours of conversation it’s safe to say we were dead sober when you put your hand on my leg. This was after we talked about how you, unlike me, were in a monogamous relationship. I told you that if that weren’t the case, I would totally make out with you. You told me that you had been about to say the same thing; too bad your girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate it. It’s a good thing we are responsible grown-ups.

You walked me to BART, though, and you held my hand, and you definitely kissed me first. You are a good kisser. You asked me not to tell Xxx. I told you, I don’t know the woman. We stopped. You stepped away. I went to leave. You walked back to me and we made out some more. You said, This can never be public for me. I said okay and slid my hand inside your shirt. I told you I wanted to take you home, it’s a good thing I have work in the morning. Lucky for both of us, you said. More. More. Your tongue on my neck. My hand on the front of your jeans. We shouldn’t.

And we fucking didn’t. I like Xxx a lot, you said. And I get the feeling you would feel bad, too. It’s true. Goddamnit, all I want is your cock in my mouth, or your hands working my clit, your mannered mouth whispering total filth in my ear. But yes, I would feel bad. We agreed that we will see each other again. We enjoy one another’s company. But we cannot be in the same room alone. Ugh, really? As soon as we agree to that, my reptile brain starts plotting how to get you alone again. We say goodbye and I start to walk down the stairs to the train. You walk down and kiss me again. You are so hard. I tell you that I have to leave now, or I will take you home and do terrible things to you. And I do it. I leave. My cunt is so swollen that I can hardly walk down the stairs into the station. I’m stepping down but looking up at where you left, a finger in my mouth, pressing with my tongue, rubbing my hand against my lips.

I have to wait 17 minutes for the next train and while I wait I call two different people. They both tell me I am going to sleep with you. I shouldn’t. I am thinking of what you’ll look like naked, what you will feel like in me. But you sound like you have a very nice girlfriend. She’s in Malaysia for six more months. Maybe you can cheat and still be with her. We couldn’t be friends, then. Fuck being friends.

I am going to your party next weekend. We are going to be friends. We are not going to fuck. I want you so bad.

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You are FAR too : bright, culturally-sophisticated, saucy, attractive, stylin’, ferociously literate, salacious, wonderfully entertaining, spunky, deliciously curvaceous, smoochable, terrifically sexy, scintillating, seductive, thoroughly vivacious, and completely beguiling, to be on this, or ANY dating site !!!!!!!

Impressed, Appreciative.

P.S. You really do have a terrific smile, THE : largest, brownest, loveliest, eyes imaginable, and that scrumptiously voluptuous figure : )

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i saw you at our class reunion. i never thought i’d go to a class reunion. you had actually gotten cuter. i did not expect that. you were not skinny and your voice was more level and your hair was not stringy. becoming an adult had worked for you. everyone else had gained too much weight or looked a lot older or clearly still felt high school was the pinnacle of their life. not like you had figured it all out, but you had certainly figured something out.

you had learned how to dance. you could really move. i suspected you picked it up at a gay club.

a classmate came up to me and said you had definitely gotten cuter. it was clear she found this surprising. i watched her flirt with you later.

i couldn’t tell what you thought about seeing me. you did keep touching my ass though. probably because you never really got a chance to in high school and you always really wanted to.

i would definitely have made out with you again. to see what it was like to kiss someone you kissed as a kid. in classic form, i said that to you in an email. now i am pretty sure i will never see you again. or at least not for another ten years or at another class reunion. but i will never go to one again.

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