April 16, 2013
Since I left Charlotte’s Web Thursday, this is what I’ve done:
I went to my parents’ house, showered, ate, got a change of clothing, ‘borrowed’ $200 from some money they stashed away, and left. They were at work so I came and went before they got home. Then I went to Ayla’s. She lives with her parents now but they were working. So we fucked for a while and I spent the night there without her parents knowing. Friday morning I showered, ate, borrowed money from Ayla, $50, and left. She actually handed me the money so it was a legitimate borrow. Friday we had some crazy rainy hail and sleet day so I went to the library and just sat there most of the day reading. Of course I’d slip into the bathroom now and then to drink and drug. When the library closed, I went to Dunkin Donuts and stayed there until I could go to a Rave. I took a taxi, plenty of Ecstasy and went in and lost myself to the music and the lights and it was the best I felt in a long time. Like a physical, spiritual, psychological, emotional orgasm. The music moving through my body, surging through my veins, making me hard as hell. I just close my eyes and dance and experience every sensation of it. Everything is good, everything is beautiful.
As the end of the evening drew near I started to look around for a girl to take me home when I saw a woman at the end of the bar. I walked over to her, sat in the bar stool beside her and looked at her trying to evaluate the situation. She was looking back at me. I usually do that, I see a girl I’m attracted to and I’m confident enough to approach but then once I get there, I don’t know what to say, so I just look at them until they talk to me first. It’s actually effective because I get the girl every time that way, even though it’s not my plan. In other words, every time I do it, I’m thinking in my head, ‘what the fuck should I say’ but I don’t project that. I just look at them, trying to think of something clever and they usually laugh and get shy or flirty and start talking first. This woman didn’t get shy or flirty, she got a little dominant.
She said, “So are you going to offer to buy me a drink?”
I said, “Whatever you want.”
She said, “I want you.”
“You got me.”
I went back to her place and we drank tons of wine and we showered together and fucked all night. She told me she was 50 years old and it was her birthday. She said she’d never been to a rave in her life, never did many wild things, her husband died five years ago from cancer and they never had any children. Yesterday she had to put her dog to sleep. She decided to go out and try to be crazy and grasp onto an evening of youth because she didn’t feel 50. She said she had watched me on and off throughout the evening and was surprised I hadn’t come over sooner, that I hadn’t picked up on the vibe of her stares. I was in my own world so I only felt completely alone. She told me she thought I was cute. Cute, huh. I said cute’s not really a compliment. She said, “ok, make that sexy.” I was like, yeah I accept sexy.
So yeah I fucked this 50 year old woman by the name of Paula and it was different from fucking a younger girl because, you know, her body was older and everything but that’s not a big deal, but she was also more confident which was cool. She was also really horny because she hadn’t had sex in 6 years. Her husband was too sick the last year of his life to have it on with her.
I stayed the weekend. We had sex and she fed me and we drank tons of wine and whiskey and it was nice, she’s a good lady. By Sunday night, I was ready to live with her, but she told me she was in love with me, so she told me I needed to leave. I asked her why, since if she loves me wouldn’t she want me to stay. She said it would only break her heart, because for me it’s frivolous. I lied and told her I loved her because I just wanted to stay, I didn’t want to go back to my life. But I figured I could love her and we could be happy. She told me she knew I was lying. I changed the subject by saying “I want to fuck you.” Then she let me stay another night.
I had plenty of shit, but I was starting to run out, so I mainly focused on drinking, I was so drunk the entire weekend. Monday morning I woke and there was a note that she had gone to work. She didn’t expect me to be there when she got home, but I was. I was watching all the news about the Boston Marathon. Originally while I was in Boston, I was wanting to stay long enough to go to that. But I got annoyed by those girls. What really brought me home however was the fact that I needed more drugs. So ironically, maybe drugs saved my life, or a limb anyway.
She came home and she was surprised to see me. She sat down with me, with a glass of wine and we watched the news together. She cried. It was a tragic evening for both of us, just so completely sad. Sad that it happened to our Boston brethren. Sad for our international friends. Sad for this day when so many cultures come together for something awesome, in our own territory, and proud that we host it. How cruel, how sick, how much it hurts to be reminded that there are people in the world who can disregard the beauty of humanity and the respect of life in such a vicious manner.
We didn’t fuck that night, just watched the news and talked politics over whiskey and wine and the pasta dinner she made me. We sat out on her patio and she smoked cigarettes with me even though it had been 10 years since she smoked. We just talked. I felt intelligent. I felt important. I felt like a man.
Now it’s Tuesday morning and she’s in the shower and has to work. I plan to be here again when she gets home.
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