A Story Not Often Told...

She Fucking Dissed Me?!:
The Tale of a Man's Not-So-Rare Walk of Shame

The code said three days, so of course he waited three days before sending that casual text with all the nonchalant effective wording:

"Hey... i had fun the other day."

Of course, he noted, his performance had been outstanding. He'd made her squeal at all the right points. He'd playfully lingered over her until she couldn't take it anymore, and he'd even given her the reassurance that she was good as well. He brought on the compliments. He lathered it on like layers in a cake. He could not tell a lie, she was fantastic. So the reply comes, and oh, what's this?

"Yeah. It was good."

What?! No smiley? No capricious flirtatious little giggle? No HEHE?! He contemplated not returning the text. He wondered what it meant...
We find our man in a sticky situation, and it is now he realizes what precisely has happened, and prays it isn't so.
Yes, he'd followed her home from the bar on her request, yes he'd ventured into her one-bedroom apartment and allowed her to make him a cup of tea. Yes, he'd successfully seduced her in her bedroom, and was obliged to collect his boxers in the morning and leave.
But she had an early class and he was only being nice!

"So yeah, I was wondering if you want to catch a movie tonight?"

Our man is hoping to be casual, because he doesn't want to appear too desperate. He notices there's a late reply and wonders if he asked her the right thing. After all, is it against protocol of these so-called "one nights" to ask the woman out on a proper date? Movie ticket, popcorn, the works?

"Busy tonight. But thanks, that's sweet."

Busy? My ass. It is now that he realizes his less-than-threatening advances have been in vain.
Our man diagnoses the issue at hand. He's fallen into the pit of truly liking this one-niter, instead of keeping her up on the shelf with the rest of dim-witted idiots he's collected in his college career. He couldn't help if her opinions on Marxism were more than sufficient, or if he caught himself thinking of her as a little prettier than average even after she removed all her makeup, or even if she was just good at what she did with her body, clothes on or off.

Enter the "Bro".
Now the "Bro" is our man's best friend. A heterosexual romance has evolved between them, and he calls upon this stoned, opinionated, pseudo-intellectual to help him evaluate the situation at hand.

The "Bro" begins his defending tyrant by pointing out that the girl in question has an ass the size of a small galaxy.
Our man begrudgingly agrees, though he thinks otherwise, and in fact truly admires her derriere against his better judgment.

After a beer and idle smalltalk about video games, the "Bro" suggests they check her Facebook page.
For a few moments, all seems well.
She updated her status, and she's currently taking a shower, ten minutes ago.

Then, with sudden revelation, the "Bro" announces
"DUDE, DUDE, DUDE, CHECK OUT THIS SHIT!"

Our man rushes to the computer.
Under her relationship status:

"It's Complicated with...."

The ex boyfriend?! The dude she was bitching about three nights ago at the bar?! The guy with the fucking irrelevant tribal tattoo and absence of a respectable job and was still living with his parents?!

"She fucking dissed me!"

With horror, our man realizes that he was used.
He was "that guy".

Embittered, he calls up the other "Bros"...
A night of makeup debauchery ensues, his opinion of women growing evermore blasé.

Sometimes...

... I look in the mirror and find myself afraid of what i'm becoming

... I still think that the things you did to me were MY fault

... I take out a picture of me and him, and i have to put it away because i start shaking from thoughts of the past

... I change in my cubicle at work when i know no one else is in the office

... I'll stand in-between two mirrors and wish i were that thin

... you really make me laugh, without the sarcasm

... she irritates me so much i wish she were dead

... the appearance of blood facinates me

... I pick my nose when i'm driving, hoping no one sees me

... my colossal ass makes me feel really good about myself

... i'll scream Fuck, in public, just to

... i wish i could let God back in

... i lie in my diary

... i actually enjoy the idea of getting married and making babies in the conventional way

... my very best friend, who has never done anything to me, gets on my nerves

... i want to climb trees, then i realize i'm twenty years old and that's socially unacceptable

... i wonder if i'm supposed to enjoy oral sex

This, I'll say...

The touch of skin on skin gave me a race of heart, yes;

Someone told me you loved me

And I felt a twinge of vanity-

I am no one.

I am nothing but a flake of sand on saturated soil.

You are wonderment;

Underneath;

Form and face and hands and heart and mind-

Elation.

Did I Really Just Say That? (song I wrote)

Now I do recall while we were laying on the floor
the effects of all the night-time skirmishes
that have our clothes in awkward places
and skin shaking sweat down to the core

You leaned over me to grab your pants
and then you looked into my eyes
For a moment I swear to god you were kidding
but I guess you maned up and took the chance


The three most overrated words in the English vocabulary
came dribbling out your mouth
I didn't know if I should laugh or take in the moment
like I ought
but you just gazed outright directly
As that damn "I love you" came again...
"Do you, Do you, Do you?"
I could only shadow a passive smile
"Thank you, thank you, thank you."


So I guess it makes me completely unsentimental
to see overly past the pitiless shit
into the untruthful cavities of your heart
How could you call our soulless fucking anything conventional?


Oh come on, let's do the right thin; make an honest woman out of me
let's not beat around the goddamn bush
let's play the parts of trailer affairs
Or run with tattoo-clad, cycle-riding symmetry


The three most overrated words in the English vocabulary
came dribbling out your mouth
I didn't know if I should laugh or take in the moment
like I ought
but you just gazed outright directly
As that damn "I love you" came again...
"Do you, Do you, Do you?"
I could only shadow a passive smile
"Thank you, thank you, thank you."


I really can't shake your hand enough,
this has been a grateful partnership,
I've enjoyed all your half-ass promises
and your attempts at being true

"Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Untoward Significance

So as I lay here, attempting to wake myself from this laziness that has come to swallow me up in the form of comfortable pillows and a feather comforter... I realize I haven't been taking as many pictures as I'd like these days.
I'm a photographer by tendency, not professional by any means, but I do the best I can.
I like giving myself room to breathe, per say.
So I stumbled across a little file of a bunch of pictures I'd taken months and months ago... and I started thinking about which pictures mean things to me.
Then I found this one.




Taken, oh, maybe seven months ago.
And it's one of my favorites.
Why, you ask?
Well, believe it or not, I have a terrible experience (not personal, but second-hand) where prescription drugs are concerned. To be able to relay that into a photograph almost made me cry when I took another look.
And that's what I've always wanted to do... bring emotions out with the things I do.
For better or worse.

Clairvoyant

Slip, slide across my mind. It's liquid of course, do you agree? Do you agree with underwater dreams? Of palaces and knights - and homosexual kings and queens? I do. Is that odd? Am I different? Eyes are bright- sure- brighter than mine by measure I believe. I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. It's a secret how I move, you know. Closely guarded. You wouldn't catch on even if you watched me in an empty space, with just my hair blowing violently across my face. You'd ask some question and I'd be silent. That is all.

My Life Is A Fucking Dolly Parton Song: Part 3

Her and the Car and the Mobile Home

Sometimes I begin to really wonder about my sanity...okay, I always wonder about my sanity...
So I have this friend, right? And we'll call her "Bessy".
Bessy has a boyfriend who works on a smelly boat out in the boondocks right smack dab in the middle of nowhereland. For some odd reason she chose me to be the one gal to assist her in a pseudo Romeo-Juliet campaign. See, her parents are really religious and don't like this guy, so a couple of nights a week she tells them she's going do something with me. I go pick her up in my car, and away we go.
And then--oh, this is the good part-- and THEN i have to watch her and her hillbilly lover suck face on the oil boat while I sit there twiddling my thumbs with nothing better to do.
It wasn't so particular last night, the ritual went as planned. We left the boondocks around midnight in our efforts to get home before anyone got a little antsy. She begins with this insane little tirade about how she's going to eventually marry this guy and they're going to live in a double wide someplace out in the country...
I'm thinking if that floats her boat, so be it. Why not?
It's not like someone can be completely unhappy living in a mobile home in the middle of nowhere, right?
She has the window down and she's completely going a little crazy, screaming at the top of her lungs; the effects of her uncontainable joy (I suppose it was a mild effect of her snogging the oily man back at the boat).
All of a sudden, her phone starts ringing and vibrating in her hand, and what happens then?
Why, she flings the phone out the window!
It wasn't a purposeful sort of gesture, but one of surprise, because at that moment she turns her head to be and shrieks that she just dropped her really expensive cellphone into the ditch along this winding back road, and that we have to get out and find it.
How else is she going to explain to her mother (whom she lives with) that she lost her new phone?
So here we are, skirts hiked up, jeans rolled, hands dirty, searching the muddy ditches on the side of this road looking for her new phone with one little mini flashlight.
It was a pretty sight.
I was pissed to say the least.
When we finally found the damn thing it was threatening not to work..the screen was wet, and it appeared water had gotten inside.
She moaned and groaned until finally it came back to life, and all was well.
For the rest of the ride home she talked about her idealistic little life out in the country, with her beau and her double wide...
The things I do for friendship.