i slept with the neighbour, who's twice my age and hugs me in a psychedelic way (or maybe it was the drugs). i wonder how you can want to fuck a child at forty years old, then i remember i am not a child. still. no excuse for me, no excuse for you.
we didn't have sex, though he wanted to, i said no but stayed for some reason though my flat was three minutes away. i did not sleep very well.
the guy's a psych nurse, we met at 2am and talked til sunrise, by which i mostly mean he asked me questions about myself and i answered. i gave it all out. in the back of my mind, the whole time or maybe just burgeoning after the first hour or so, the question, the eventuality : does he simply want to fuck me? (the doubt is always there, and it is always right). i was prepared, and only slightly disappointed when he put his hands on my thighs and kissed me, quite roughly. i would have been either way.
there was a shift i can't exactly pinpoint, i think, when he let his hair down his face chaged, or i saw it up too close, but now i can't remember the man i was talking to all night. i miss him, but i knew. i think i stopped talking at that point.
men will take what they want, they will want to take every time. the only thing you can do is prepare to give in smile and silence what you don't want stolen. and never ask yourself what you want. i am incapable of want anyway.
he didn't take this time, not much, not too much. we didn't have sex though he clearly wanted to, i said no, i'd rather sleep, but i didn't sleep, i just laid eyes closed, expecting him to take anyway. wondering, in doubt. preparing myself to give. repeating to myself : i know the noises to make to not get raped.
i'm going back to his house tonight.
gummygunk
stormborns
pixelskylines
turnnoffyourmind