26 December 2005

April 16, 2005

I’ve been here before. Its ridiculously early to be staring at a dark ceiling. I think he’s passed out but its too soon to be sure.
It all started when he taunted me. No. It all started when he called and asked me to meet him at a keg party. Then he taunted me. “You think you’re too good for this, don’t you?” he said. Fuck him if he thinks I’m a snob (even though I am).
So I went. I followed his sketchy directions to the standard student apartment. Knocking on the door was a joke but I did it anyway. I know it’s a keg party but I still don’t know any of these people and I don’t want to seem rude.
Inside is so generic it should be on a shelf next to a cocktail party marked up $2 more. There are pretty girls in skirts and lots of boys in polo shirts and baseball caps. I walk straight through the apartment to the backdoor, which takes about 7 seconds. I am looking to find him but all the boys look the same.
He’s out on the patio. I tap him on the shoulder and he turns around and is immediately much more friendly than usual. He says hello, his hand gently resting on my ass. “I want to make out with you so badly right now. Lets go somewhere.”
He takes me to the parking lot and I feel like I’m 15 years old again. “I’m a fool.” I say to him. He smells like beer and I can tell he’s had too much. “Why? You look so hot…” he says as he buries his face in my neck and reaches up to grab my chest. I remove his hand and I say “because the only reason you called me is because you’re drunk and want sex. And I know this and I came anyway.”
“I really like you” is his reply.
“Do you want me to take you home?” I ask. He rubs his crotch against my leg and says “What do you think?”
We get in my car and drive to his apartment. When we get inside he doesn’t bother to turn on any lights. He leans into my back and reaches his hands around to my chest, kissing my collarbone. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?” I ask. “I will later” he says. All I can think is I might as well be back with Big John if I am going to deal with this shit.
Still I stay.
We go to his room and slip off our clothes. We wrestle on his sheets and kiss and moan. He passes out. I’ve been here before.
I stare at the ceiling, thinking about everything. I think about him, and me, and tomorrow, and the afternoon, and the generic keg party that I was at for 6 minutes. I think I wish he was kissing me and tugging at my hair and whispering dirty things in my ear. I think I wish a lot of things about him that aren’t happening and won’t happen. But I’ve only got less than two months left in this damn town, so I take what I can get.


Anonymous said...

Those were happy days, weren't they?

Bebe said...

coincidentally, the entry right before this one in my journal says:

Somehow on the top of all of my priority lists has appeared “eating chocolate, consuming alcoholic beverages, and watching sappy chick flicks with miss satin chaira”. Somehow I’m not paying too much mind.

I miss you, gorgeous. To Prague!

Peter said...

I want to send you my address, but I don't know it yet. The previous tenant didn't know it either.