I had to turn off my sad music, which is a 35 minute loop of a Maxence Cyrin cover of "Where is my mind" by the Pixies:
I mean, that's just a recipe for crazy right there, never mind that it reminds me of two people that I love that make me sad to remember. I saw Fight Club for the first time with Zella, my girlfriend from high school. I dated her for two months in high school, and pined for her for 5 years after that. If she showed up on a rainy night, crying on my doorstep, it would be hard to just hold her and not kiss those rose petal lips and smell the sweet sandalwood and orange blossom scent of her hair. I wonder if her tits are still pierced.
That song was also what I listened to just after I told Dustin I couldn't see him anymore. Today I thought, "I know, I want to listen to something pretty and artsy and I love that song, how about I put that on?" Dear god, what a bad idea. Next thing I know, I'm doing performance art belly dancing, the masturbatory contemporary bullshit that alienates audiences because you feel like you're watching something private and not made for you. Then just tears. The ugly, awful ones that they don't put in movies. The kind that speak of agony, knowing that it's quite possible that you're only 27 and you've already had the best sex of your life and you'll never quite get there again. Worried that you won't feel this attached to someone again, and regretting that the world isn't different. That hyperbolic my-world-is-over-because-he's-not-in-it crying.
Eventually I had to split into two and have the one version of me help the other one. Reading that, that doesn't sound very sane. It's entirely possible that I'm not. I just... compartmentalized. A third-person version of me looked at it objectively, and decided that I shouldn't do that to myself anymore. I had to get ready. I had to turn off the music. I had a girl coming over in half an hour, and I had to get my shit together.
Having casual sex is my favorite way to motivate myself to clean my house. Suddenly, everything gets done. First, though, I had to create my opener. I'd invited my friend over specifically to play with her, but I still needed that initial thing to transition from the outside world into my world of sexiness. I like making hot chocolate if it's semi cold outside.
Are you ready, because this is good stuff here. Take 3/4 nestle chocolate chips, and put them in a large bowl. Now boil 3 cups of whole milk in a sauce pan. You'll want to stir occasionally, so it doesn't burn on the bottom. Don't leave it unattended, either, because the thing could boil over fairly easily. When it's boiling, pour the hot milk onto the chocolate chips, but don't stir it yet. Let it get acquainted. Don't hang about too long, just wash the sauce pan, dry it, put it away, and then stir quickly with a whisk. Stir it good. When it's mixed, you pour it into your mugs, and leave them by the microwave.
When she arrives, put both cups in the microwave for 1 minute. If you're adding marshmallows, do that at the 30 second mark. This is your time to chat about her day. You invite her into the living room, where the lights are low but not creepy, and there's music playing but not overty sexual music. She tells you about the crazy people at work. There's the useless, pompous asshole she calls "Bullshit-face," and the crazy bitch who stole her promotion, and she hates that she doesn't get to have as much say at work as she'd like. Pay attention to what she's saying, even though here cleavage is ridiculous and her glasses only make her face look cuter.
Suddenly she's talking about some girl she flirted with at a party, and how she pretend-joked about making out with two girls, and they all three made out for real. This is your hint to move in a bit closer, especially since both your legs are crossed towards each other. You start lightly petting her hand with yours, and she smiles as she continues talking. Then there's a moment that just begs you to nuzzle into her neck, breathe in, and kiss that warm sweet soft neck. It's warmer and softer than you imagined, and even your seasoned self gasp a little and go in more excitedly for more kisses, more licks, and a little light biting up her neck, until you're sucking gently on her earlobe and licking up the ridge of her ear. "You can bite it a little," she says. She wants you to bite the top curve of her ear. You oblige.
Now you're on top of her on the couch, grinding and moaning and kissing and licking. She's so sweet and cute and thinks you are super sexy. She's several years younger than you, but not in an annoying way. Now she's topless. Dear good god damn. Those breasts are amazing. Round and large and beautiful. She's proud of them, and pulls her shoulders back.
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