| now is | once was | came from | heard tell |

3:36 a.m. - 2005-01-12

Alibi

Argh. I am going stupid with this butch, drunk on sex and enthusiasm and a total lack of cynicism. Part of me suspects I might be doing something wrong here but most of me is just so excited about the fucking that I can’t focus. I have so many things to do before I leave the country but I have arranged to meet up when I finish work at 6am and spend our fourth day in a row together. We will fall into my bed and fuck all morning, all day, I will have an hour or so sleep before I pull myself back into work.

My enthusiasm for this sex surprises me. It is not kinky power-play sex like I so often have a preference for, and it isn’t (I suppose) all that wonderful compared to other vanilla sex I’ve had. She doesn’t blow me away with her intelligence or the poetry in her blood (if she has poetry in her blood, it is incredibly well-disguised). Maybe I’m just drunk on the novelty of doing something so ordinary as walking into a bar, flirting with the bartender, picking up the bartender, and then holing up with the bartender to fuck for days on end. After this whole long year of having to work so hard for every crumb of validation, affection, or physical contact, I am high on the immediacy of this, her intoxication with me, the space between us full of delight in the right now.

I have the upper hand here- and that I suppose is why I am a little concerned. I don’t trust myself to use my power for good. Ah well. I have laid every disclaimer at her feet and still she begs for the privilege of being the one to open my doors and buy my dinner. Perhaps I am a mistake I have to let her make.

(or perhaps I’m just having too much fun to stop)

- |+

[Phone Home] - 2005-02-22

[She hurts, even from here, she hurts.] - 2005-02-11

[Two weeks and counting] - 2005-01-31

[Dirty] - 2005-01-20

[Here Now] - 2005-01-18