it was 9 years ago - this week - in fact that i first tried it... i met up with a questionable character, who's identity shall remain, thankfully, partially unknown - even to me. i'd rather not know who he really was, some things are better off not being known. i know his first name - the real one - was Anthony because i saw his state issued i.d., but i can't remember his last name anymore - those few weeks are all a blur and like i said, this happened 9 years ago.
it all started online. story of my life. i started talking to this man from portland. in true fashion, i spoke up about some things - i let things go, so easily some times and some times that's a mistake and some times, it isn't. this happened to be one of the former. a big one - that just kept getting bigger. it's amazing how trouble inflates itself like a balloon - filling and filling until it finally bursts. Anthony was more like a chain of balloons, filling with caustic fluids and every now and again - they'd burst open and this scary stuff would come out. i was too wild in my grief to worry about my own safety until about a month after - when it subsided and i was left to wonder what i was thinking. another out of body, out of mind experience. somehow, i've wandered off track here - but i'm not lost, because it's all relative.
it all started with a dream, really. so ignore the first sentence of that last paragraph.. it all started with a dream about a man, a tall, thin man named Andy or Andrew. i think the dream was brought about by loneliness, my mind creates happiness for me in my dreams, when my reality is devoid of it. i needed hope. so my mind created a dream and created a man, whom i would be obsessed with finding... to this day, really. i wonder if i will find him or if it really was "just a dream" even though it didn't feel like it.
i am standing in a room - full of people - a family gathering. my arm is around the waist of a very tall, thin man - i look up at him and smile and for the life of me - i feel the warmth of the sun glow on my face when he looks back at me.
Andy isn't in this story - unfortunately.
i made the mistake of sharing my dream with Anthony, who said his name was Andy.
part of me needed the escape meeting Anthony provided. it was a mess and i was useless anyway or so i thought. i get wild in my sorrow and i was deep in it, had been for a year... this new event added to the misery, i was done. for 3 weeks - i slept in hotel rooms or in my car or i drove home and collapsed on my bed for 12 hours - only to be up and out and escaping again. not sober, not myself... drawing pictures in the sand at the beach... composing poetry, that was brilliant and wasted and forgotten. getting so up there high, that i couldn't see my toes - unable to come down. at points, convinced that i was nothing. nothing except eye balls and fingernails and i simply needed to be held - an unusual need for me. episodes of South Park playing on the television - i made myself sick watching the one that the gerbil gets lost in a man's intestines and a weird sort of hobbit tale unfolds - to this day - i can't watch that episode without feeling gorge rise in my throat. a Leave It To Beaver marathon - i hate television on a good day, Anthony was torturing me with it.
the first time we had sex, was unimpressive. he exploded upon entry - nothing like a 20 second ride from a man that's sporting an Oscar Mayer weiner in his pants. needless to say, i wasn't fond of the idea of a repeat visit - considering the lack of foreplay involved. part of me slipped into a very aggressive state, i didn't give a fuck already and this piece of shit started coming out with truths... he'd served time in jail... which turned into actual prison. i was so out of it though, i couldn't be arsed to cut ties. i was hooked on being out of it. i didn't want to have sex with him again and wasn't afraid to tell him no, even though he badgered me for it - i refused. he would masturbate in my car with melon scented lotion. every.single.time. he got into my car - he would masturbate with that fucking lotion and then leave a tissue with cum and lotion wadded up in the cup holder. he gave new meaning to the word useless cunt. he didn't accept responsibility for anything that he did. and yet... there i was. hanging out with him. it doesn't speak well of my intellect or judgment. nothing in those 3 weeks speaks well of me. we were staying at a room on the coast, i watched the sunset out the window, i was naked - the sun was on fire over the ocean - it was the most beautiful thing i'd ever seen. there were people on the beach, looking up at me - my chest and face aglow with the setting sun, i waived at them. he was watching me from the bed and called me over. i swam through the air - thick - but weightless... and sank onto the bed. one of those bodiless moments - not against the idea of anything. he wanted to get off, of course. i lied and said i was out of condoms, so he resorted to jacking off - big surprise - but no melon lotion this time, he had to use spit - because i won't put a cock in my mouth unless it can make my cheeks bulge. he wanted to play with my tits - so i lay on the bed - he was on his knees next to me - over me - pumping his tiny man meat furiously - i was trying not to laugh. then he asked me what no other man, had ever asked me before... he asked me to finger fuck his ass. so i did. first one finger... then two... then... three... and he's grinding on them, like it's the best fucking thing on the planet, his hips moving back and forth and moaning like a bitch... and i'm thinking, he took it up the ass in prison and he loved it. this is wild, i add my pinky... i'm a thumb away from fisting him. he came... all over my tits. i was disgusted and turned on - it was terrible.
but i do believe. in that moment. he fell in love with me.
fool.
