she speaks in forever, i talk in the past.

I’m such a good temporary lover that I almost believe I’m not made for anything other than that. It’s a bit sad! or a lot sad, considering…

We were laying in bed when I slid my hand down her leg, she jumped with an “OH MY GOD!” as the tips of my fingers met the back of her knees. At the same time, I was asking “is this an erogenous zone for you?”

Laughing, she responded “yeah I guess so!”

She didn’t know that about herself but I had my suspicions, considering the way she responds when it’s the small of her back or her ribs. People who are ticklish are very fun to do this sort of thing to. Sexual laughter feeds me like nothing else, ichor for a mortal man.

It doesn’t take long to learn someone’s body and the type of thing they’ll respond to. Some personalities do really well with being given instructions.

“Put your hands behind your back, just above your hips, legs on my shoulders, you’re not allowed to move your hands, be good. I’m going to use my palm on your clit at the same time.”

Suddenly I’m twelve again, reading about how elevating someone’s lower half does a lot for them, and there are pillows meant for this specifically, but I figure if it’s also a way to restrain their hands, that’ll scratch another itch for them.

I’m only twelve, why am I thinking about this? Why is it important to me? I’m twelve. But to be fair, I was forced into the world of sex at a very young age.

“Turn over, face down. Okay, now start touching yourself, I’m going to take you from behind, don’t stop no matter what.”

I’m ten, I’ve learned that some people do it this way, they naturally lay face down to pleasure themselves, the pressure does a lot for them.

I’m looking back in time again, my mom just caught me looking at porn on the computer, she runs off into her bedroom in a frenzy, kneels on the floor and starts desperately praying to god for forgiveness. This is uncomfortable, why do I know this? I’m in second grade, why am I watching porn? I managed to convince both my parents it was a pop up ad.

Back to the present, without telling her to, she’s learned that we should match our breathing. Inhale, exhale, scream, grunt, inhale, exhale,moan, growl. So on , so forth. I’m fourteen, I’m reading about tantric sex, I’m watching a vice documentary about some indian tantric sex guru, who describes doing this for hours and hours. I want to be like him when I grow up, now I am. but why? Why is it so important for me to be good at sex?

you know why

which one are you? Caliban?

I can’t tell.

But they’re right. I know it’s because, the people that loved me showed me that sex was how you expressed that love, even though I was too young for that.

So now I’m good at sex, so long as I’m not feeling defeated, or like I’m cheating on the person whose face I borrowed for this life time.

“I hope the next person you fuck is terrible and you think

of me the whole time”

“That’ll probably be the case” she responds.

That’s always been important to me for some reason, I want my lovers to think of me when they fuck someone else. I want them to look for me in that persons eyes. I want to be better than anyone else they’ll have. I want them to love me forever. But when she talks like that, when I say, “ten years down the line, we won’t know each other anymore and it’ll have been years since you saw me, you’ll think of me when whoever you’re with fails to make you cum”

and she responds with “well know each other in ten years” and I say “what, do you intend to marry me or something?”

and she looks at me and smiles and nods, fear grips me. I’m already thinking about how she’ll break my heart and shatter me, how I’ll spend cold nights alone blogging about her and listening to the playlist we started yesterday afternoon. I say “well I await your proposal” just to comfort her.

I won’t be alive in ten years anyway. There’s this buddhist thing about looking at a glass and seeing that it’s already broken. Knowing that things are always changing and everything is temporary. In my mind the glass has been broken for years, I keep pouring water into it and being shocked when it cuts my lips. But what can I say? I’m thirsty. I’m parched, but I’m allergic to water.

I joke around on the internet, “you can all claim me! I’m everybody’s boyfriend!”

She’s sleeping, I always wake up at some absurd time.

Someone in my head says “I wish we met before my heart was broken”

in therapy, when I talk about her, I gush about how great she is and how I’m a huge fan. I’ll never tell her that though. Instead when she wakes up I’ll tell her she sleeps like a traumatized kid. Fetal position, not making a single noise. We both laugh because I do too. She bats her eyes at me.

She doesn’t understand that a thing like me isn’t made for loving, only for fucking.And that even though in the morning I’ll make her brush her teeth and get us food, or cook when I have the energy, and nag her into making her doctors appointments. After a while I become cold and quiet and annoyed and I have no patience and I’m cruel and ugly and frigid and all those horrible things that make me a terrible partner to have the misfortune of being in love with.

She stumbles from bed limping and laughs “yeah you really did a number on me”

She asks if I’m sore and I say “nope!” I was rusty the first few weeks because I was too sad to fuck for a few months, but of course I’m not sore. A marathon runner wouldn’t be sore from a mile the way a stationary worker would be right? After all this is what I’m made for, this is what I’m good at, this is what my body is for, just for fucking. I don’t want anyone to think of me sexually when it comes down to it, but that’s really all Im good for.

As long as I can make people feel good. Everything I am is to make others feel good.

Temporarily anyway.

My people made girls wear these waist beads.

They’re so……

“That tattoo really is a lot”

They’re looking at the good boy tattoo. Lustfully. I feel good. It’s the same with those beads.

post script.

Urim says you’re a part of my future, so I will go to the desert, and the ocean, I keep having dreams where I’m in your homeland and I’m looking for you. I’ll go there too. Even if that future isn’t in this lifetime, isn’t as this incarnation, I will go, and I will wait.