That Was The Best Sandwich I Have Ever Eaten
February 18, 2011 § Leave a comment
I don’t really care if we never fuck again, I just didn’t like being told that it wouldn’t happen. I hadn’t shaved or given myself a “You’re going to fuck this guy” pep talk, but fucking hell, having him just drop the we’re never fucking again in my lap when I was already on the fast track to the kind of freak-out bound to land me back in the bin just drove it home that I’m a blob of dried ketchup sitting in the sun, gathering ants. Maybe that isn’t the right metaphor, but the point is that right now I’m gross. I haven’t been showering often enough, I’m getting fat, I had a tooth pulled, and my skin has been dry and ruddy.I wouldn’t fuck me with your dick. So, I get it. But he’s my friend and he should unconditionally fuck me.
Was it the pajama pants? You looked at me weird the night I showed up at your door in these same pants, and we almost broke up for good that night. I should likely be rid of these pants. They’re 0 for 2. They are possibly the most comfortable things I’ve ever worn, and when I masturbate in them they are rather absorbent. However, it seems like I’m the only one who wants to fuck me when I wear these pants, so I’m happy to drop them off at the Goodwill with a loving note in the ass pocket about how I hope the next person who wears them can appreciate the way the bbq sauce stain on the upper thigh looks like a donkey holding a balloon.
I’m not sure what’s happening with us. I just texted you to tell you that I hope you noticed that I’ve been texting you less. You haven’t responded yet, which means you are at work, that place you go all day to photograph fashion models. He said that I should think of it differently. You hang out with skinny, hot chicks all day and you’re into me. He says it would be like if he had a girlfriend who worked with bands all day. Then we made an outstanding sandwich, got very drunk, I took pictures of his hot fucking body, and we tried to work out the harmonies on Islands In The Stream. Somewhere in there he told me the thing about how we’ll never fuck, which made me cry, but I wasn’t crying over that really.
When Dolly was singing with Kenny you could see that they knew they were two legendary, amazing people on a stage together. “Let’s give ’em a treat, ol gal”, Kenny’s eyes were saying with each Rogers twinkle. Our rendition was terrible, but we’ll get better at it. Besides, we did a great “These Days”. He nailed the guitar part. I suppose it’s the more appropriate song for the evening, anyway. We’re not lovers and this isn’t the year for the real thing. No, right now is more about all the things that I forgot to do (and all the times I had the chaaaaaaaaaaahnce to.)
Next time we hang out I’m getting him shitfaced and drawing a dick on his cheek.