drunkencynic's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- hormones (and sentence structures) run amuck Last night I found myself gazing with unprecedented longing at the portrait of John Edward on his book, Crossing Over. As in, damn, I wish this guy were unmarried and here so I could get a piece of that. I have always thought of John Edward as sexy, but the violence of this thought surprised me. I really need some satisfaction here. Uhhh...help? There's a really gorgeous blonde guy (and I don't usually like blonde guys) working behind the counter at Starbucks (yes, our town has only one, imagine). I was driving through Burger King the other day for a Dr. Pepper in an effort to infuse myself with caffeine so I wouldn't fall asleep on the way home, and I had to drive past the huge glass wall behind which people were eating. There were a bunch of guys there, and they started rapping furiously on the window as I drove by. I decided that I must have had a tail light out or something. Then yesterday I went for the same purpose to a McDonald's which happened to be manned entirely by guys at the time, and they all crowded around the window as I received my Diet Coke. Yes, I know I shouldn't drink Diet Coke, but it's sweeter. I also got surreptitiously yelled at from a passing car full of guys. I have no idea what they said. Consequently I am beginning to wonder if I have a sign on my head that says Fuck You or something equally provocative. (Fuck Me, perhaps?) None of these guys has once offered to get me off. I am not at all sure that I am in a position to refuse these days. Which is dangerous. Because I know if I saw Thomas and he started stroking my arm and kissing me, I would surrender myself in an instant. I need to be stroked and loved and kissed. And... yeah, well, you know. Part of me is saying, "Stop whining, bitch...how many of the guys you know are going to say no to no-strings-attached-sex?" The other part knows that it won't be any good if it's a drive-by fucking. Which is where Thomas comes in. We had something. I don't know what it was, but it was something. I am highly unconvinced that it was love, but there was passion, there was a connection. And it still burns whenever we're together. But I think I may have put him off me for good this time. The last time I talked to him (a couple weeks ago, I think) I accused him of being stupid and incompetent. I told him that he screwed up JR's car (which is true) and fucked him with the money (also true). He freaked out at that. "Don't you ever say that I messed up a car!" Oh big freaking deal. You just essentially told me that I'm stupid. Everyone knows you're an idiot. Does my saying it make it any worse? Auugh, I'm a horrible person. I would just be using him. But it's not like he'd be pure of mind and soul either. I don't want to have the dicking around before things get serious and you start making love. That's my main qualm with starting over. I don't want forced conversations, meaningless dates, the awkward dance of what we mean to each other. I want to get right down to the connection, the passion, the lovemaking. And yet I want it to mean something. I am impossible to satisfy. 11:35 a.m. - 2003-07-22 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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