[commence “wallowing in the wee-hours” rant]
Polished off a bottle of white while watching Pan Am, after trying to read up on studies (text of the day: Exercise Physiology: Human Bioenergetics and Its Applications, 4th Edition). I’ve indulged my ego, playing solemn pianissimo pieces via Pandora to quench my unfulfilled urge to be warmly held in someone’s arms, or to at least be pandered into one. Funny, I now think of those both who I’ve kept at an arm’s length (either through unnerved disinterest or to prevent being seen as “easy”) and those I’ve indulged or whom have indulged lustful wants.
——-
How does one separate desire to ‘experience’ another versus that of being a depraved gratification seeker? It is obviously difficult to carry a temporary ‘relationship’ of sorts without some social reproach or return of disgust and/or disappointment from your counterpart were you to separate.
“Humans are social animals.” I once more recall what a friend once wisely mentioned, and the yearning once more beckons at my slightly inebriated rationale.
Call him, call someone, relieve yourself of your wanton desires. It’s just a step away from a
held hand/
kiss/
warm touch/
heartbeat against heartbeat/
rub/rock/rush/
grabgraspgulp/
fuck
fuck
FUCK.
Just need to get a hold of myself, need to focus on myself.
But that’s all you’ve been doing, that’s all you’ve done. Remember last week? You gave in. It’s so easy, so easy for you.
…that’s what I’m afraid of. How easy it is to just give in, give up, and go at it.
——-
It wasn’t even major, just a “handshake”—mostly just my holding him through the night. Funny, his Facebook profile listed “in a relationship” the following day. (No wonder he held his head in his hands before and after the night… drunk or not, he probably thought of his boyfriend, and how he might’ve been disregarding their relationship, disregarding him.)
Everyone wants to have some kind of experience with another, and I’m sure I’m not one to remove myself from that type of want. It’s just that… the circle is a tad too tight—word gets around fast, whether or not you’d prefer it. Hah, shared experience (I’m expecting you, the reader, to supply slut for the description, but is it really that?).
——-
I want a steady relationship, a ready ear, a warm familiar embrace… a damn fucking slow dance in this random October snow/sleet/rainfall.
[commence required self introspection]
Until then, work toward what you want to accomplish yourself. Your Mr. Right isn’t going to rightfully earn you your degrees or make you your money (…unless he was a Mr. Sugah Daddy?), nor is he going to lead your life the way you’d like. So go on, eating your jalepeno kettle-cooked potato chips, butter crunch cashews, baby carrots, garlic hummus and bottle of white (…wait you finished that already), accept that you’re not satisfied with life. Who ever is? Do you what you must, do what you can, and stop being a whiny lazy-ass (aren’t we all, at one point or another?). Translation: go the fuck to sleep, and feel the fuck better in the morning (Further Translation: go for a mid-morning run, and sober up—you have your last grad midterm of the semester, and your labs are due, so do them or you FAIL.).
P.S. No one loves you better than yourself, so forget those others and take care. (You think they’re thinking of youm like you do them, right now? …exactly.)
[terminate “…” rant]
