I know he meant well. He always does. That’s between him and the road to Hell.Far more concerned with creeping life epidemic the whole situation epitomizes.
I mean, we’re all friends here. That much is true. So I didn’t have any expectations whatsoever when he would mention how this one girl was coming to town for an extended stay. One thing I’ve learned in life is not to be presumptuous.
But he kept pressing it. Email, text message, dude even left me an actual real-time voice message like they used to do in the olden days. I was always polite. No expectations, remember. Another thing I’ve learned (but still have a very difficult time practicing) is to NEVER start imagining how things could be with another person ahead of time. It’s akin to sitting around dreaming of what you would do if you won the Lotto. Motherfucker, you don’t even play the Lotto. Feel me?
Woke up today in a fog. Weed, whiskey, COCAINE (so much cocaine…), vodka, whatever. It has to catch up with a person sometimes. But still I ride, like Bon fucking Jovi. So I nut up and give this girl a shout. Hey. I’m here. You’re here. We’re all friends here. Let’s actually BE friends for a change.
The response was lightning-quick. But I guess it doesn’t take much time to reduce someone’s existence down to cushy convenience.“(REDACTED) did say I could call on you if I'm ever stranded and bored.”
Maybe there’s honor in being a bottom-bitch. I’m just not going to find out firsthand.
I joke about wanting to be a whore, allowing women to have their way with me. But this is different. This is…not fun. Booty calls are fun. This is a slow, sinking feeling two days before some stupid fucking holiday that died with your mother, father, sister and brother.
This is the last resort.
x
The girl smiling in the middle of the seemingly endless bukkake, happily bathing in the baptism of sperm bitterly discharged from the rotting loins of crushed souls more broken than her own? I know her. I’ll probably drive her home afterwards.The rest is better left unsaid.
