Yeah, But Still. in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

  • Aug. 11, 2003, midnight
  • |
  • Public

Oh yeah. Whatever happened to that hot Italian, Massimo? Long story short, after another really long night, Maria asked him to escort me to my room. He did. And there we were, in my room, looking at each other. Looking at the king sized bed with the fluffy down comforter. Looking at each other. Looking at the bed.

It could have so, so, soooooo easily turned into another one-nighter. The man is simply delicious. He would have stayed. I know it. But as hot as he is, as lonely as I was, as comfortable as it was walking arm in arm with him all over the city….it was not to be. I didn’t want to ask him to leave. I didn’t have to. He’s perceptive. And I’m sure it was written all over my face. I did not want him there. He turned and left me with a kiss on my cheek.

And it was one of the best night’s sleep I’d had in a long time.

Still, that doesn’t negate the fact that I’m so frustrated I could scream.


Last updated 5 days ago


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