Life of the Party

Sweaty and dehydrated fresh off of fucking she lays her head on my chest and her long blonde hair falls over my torso almost covering it all. she’ll look up and ask me what am I’m thinking as she often does and I’ll respond as I often do with a heavy sigh, “nothing”. But she knows it’s something and she’ll whisper to me about my walls and how I don’t let anyone in and this will begin our own revised version of Rick and Ilsa. “Who are you really, and what where you before? What did you do and what did you think, huh? “We said no questions” What’s wrong is how do you tell someone that they’re too good for you. Not too good as better than or you not deserving. Too good as in innocent and warm hearted. She’s the kind of girl who’s never really Really been hurt by a guy before, who’s had to lay it all down on the line for a man and been broken only to pick herself back up from the pieces and rebuild. What’s worst is knowing that the chances are high that the one who open her eyes to all this is you, a sort of second taking of virginity. Innocent. And somehow this bothers me because how can any of us really know what it’s all about until we’ve tasted blood. It annoys me how trusting in people she is the fact that she’s an eternal optimist who sees the good in everyone. Naive. How can you share with someone like this the past ten years of your being. The things you’ve done and the girls you’ve done them to. The late nights in Vegas and the swinger parties. The affairs and the one night stands and worst of all the fact that you hardly remember any of it all. She knows there’s a dark side to you but she could never really understand how deep it goes. It’s because of this divide that some nights you don’t even want to fuck her.

Loving Online

She’s young and at that age where she runs with many circles filled with fake friends she doesn’t really even like. Every night there’s a happy hour and group events at Lima or some other club and going away parties and birthdays. She says yes to everything then she does that annoying thing girls do where they pretend to be stressed out over having to many “obligations” in one evening. I neg her and tell her everyone wants her, she’s the life of the party. What I really want to say is you’re afraid of being alone…. we all are. The kind of girl that would wear an Urban Outfitters Ramones T shirt but when hard press couldn’t tell you the name of one member of the band or even a song title. Her cool is manufactured and picked out for her with out her even knowing. All these cracks and faults you see in a woman after really fucking her in a way that really let’s you see her. But if issues were playing cards I’d have a full deck. I know that I’m just not ready to share my space with anyone and especially someone who hasn’t walked through the fires and really found herself on the other side. The older I get the more I truly understand how we’re all Isaac Davis in Manhattan. At first the innocence and allure of her youth attracts you in that you think you will be reborn a new and start again from it all. But you spend so much time with internal struggle and pushing her away and encouraging her to be with someone her own age. Of course subconsciously you already know that this will make her want you more. That the less of yourself you give to her the more of you she’ll want. It is this that makes you the cruelest of lovers. Until she gets the point and she is gone and you want her back again. And to you it’s an experiment to a hypothetical question, can you ever get so tired of game that you allow yourself to rest from it. Do you have a heart? Can you really feel something beyond want for a woman? You already know the answer, but Winter is coming. So kiss her back and say nothing again

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