please don’t tell me you don’t.
you like to only remember the shitty but there was plenty a good. i’ll jog your memory:
workmas party. so glad you came. did i ever thank you for that? is it too late? well thanks either way. you stayed longer than expected. i paid you in attention. i remember what i was wearing to impress you. it worked. i travel. it snows. we email. you call from your car in a parking lot. it’s electric. i could only think of you while i had an ever fleeting fancy in bed who had never-had-an-orgasm-till-this-night-and-got-it-over-pants.
i return. you dump your captain, and quick. should’ve been lapse. a lull alone. there’s not. i make excuses that perhaps it was detrimental. you of course find independence for the first time right after me. reoccurring theme of my befuddled dating life.
straight in you saunter. we hug and we’re done. make-out and it’s over. fuckin poker player you bandit of hearts. you perform emotional thievery atop your throne. perched with that impeccable posture i admire and envy. are you intentionally perking them and showing ’em off? it works. you invite me up. the view’s fuckin stellar. i immediately become completely lost. we stare and don’t care about shit. stupid cliche is right. it is blind.
i love it that we do it lots. at least that’s how i remember it. it’s great. it’s all i wanna do. making love has never made such sense. and we still fuck. that’s where we get the anger out. we think we need that in our relationship.
i love that you let me try and accomplish everything i can in bed. i take advantage. the more time the better. eat, fuck, sleep, make love, talk, have sexy time, read, fucksexmakelove. watch movies that lead to fucking. i mention getting a bedpan and really calling it. you talk me out of it. you were always smarter.
then you started complaining there’s holes in my boxers. i told you i don’t have time to get new ones. plus it makes for easier access. why can’t you get me some if you’re so concerned. if i never have time for you why would i have time to buy more undies? you wanted more. i get frustrated and give less.
i talk myself out of it. then you. it hurts you first. badly. then me. badly. i missed you so much after i went away. and you had already pushed me out. i understand. my futile attempts to communicate only hurt more, and now you’re part of that team…..
used to be lovers now i’m an outcast. wish we could build on something which changed us but we can’t even say hello.
i miss you and tell myself you do the same.