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| Snow White and the Seven Hot Boys |
| 03.29.05 (3:30 pm) [edit] |
Sunday morning I woke up feeling heavy and slightly hung over. Cruzando and I ventured into the city Saturday to meet an old friend for lunch. I had met Joey while in Hawaii traveling the vast beauty of the island’s gay hot spots. He struck me right away because of his energy, his look, his eyes but most importantly his beautiful smile. We connected right away. Laughing, drinking, dancing. He is my little Calvin Klein boyfriend. When Janet Jackson came to Hawaii he wanted to give me his second pass three rows back from the stage. I passed because I had bought tickets with other friends and didn’t want to ditch them, He is on the DVD in the front row.
He called me last Tuesday to let me know he was coming up for the weekend. I hadn’t seen him in over three years now. I was so nervous. I had butterflies in my stomach which Cruzando found a little weird. So he gets there and introductions are made and more drinks are had. We met for a late lunch, separated for a quick nap and then met up again for late night dancing and flirting. I have to admit that I like being around them. They always hold my hand so they don’t lose me in the bars or make sure that I don’t need another drink. We laughed and told old jokes.
We partied most of the night and into the early morning. I miss going out and I behaved! I wish I did have some random funny story to tell but I made it in one piece without crying or starting a fight or making out with random 50 year old women.
Sunday morning we had agreed to having a BBQ at my place before they departed back to LA. I rolled out of my bed and found my way into Jose’s and his BF’s bed. I would have crawled into Cruzando’s bed but it was locked……imagine my surprise when I hear a familiar voice rise out from the room later that day. We get out of bed and head for the grocery store. We DID NOT buy any alcohol trying to be good for the Easter Holiday but that changed once the grill was fired up and that old familiar comforting smell started to fill the house. There was a breeze out and the sun had managed to make its way out into the day past the gloomy clouds that had been lingering most of the morning. Soon everyone was dressed and ready to hang out. Joey and John. Jose and his BF. Cruz and his friend. I leaned against the wall with a cold beer in my hand and watched them all interact. One set were talking over by the computer as “Filthy Gorgeous” by the Scissor Sister’s covered the hum of their conversations.
“I’m surrounded by beautiful boys,” I said to no one in particular.
“Call the Kitten,” someone suggests.
I call and leave a message then I remember she is in LA. There is something to say about a room full of gorgeous men. Someone busts out the tequila and by then everyone is drinking cold beers and flowing from conversation to conversation. As I leaned against that wall at that moment I was in love with my life. As fucked up and complicated as it’s known to be I was feeling good. I watched them in their moments, stealing bits and pieces for myself. Even if we are never in the same room at the same time ever again it will be one of my favorite memories.
(yes I know there were only six of them but the title was cute!)
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| Her Tears |
| 03.24.05 (2:21 pm) [edit] |
I haven’t heard her cry this much in such a long time. The last time I remember was when when my dad wouldn’t let her go to the store with him. She cried every time knowing it wouldn’t change his mind. I used to think it was the most annoying thing but now I realize how innocent and pure that act was. She felt separated and rejected and it hurt so she cried. She was eight.
At 17 she is strong willed and beautiful.
“I don’t want to be mad anymore,” she said through her tears.
She had gone home from school to turn on the ringer on our house phone in case my cousin had to call for help. My aunt fell last night and her kids don’t know if she bumped her head on the counter. So today my cousin stayed home from school to make sure her nothing happens to her mom. Last night her brother picked his mom up from the kitchen floor and helped her drunk ass to bed. He is 15 but you wouldn’t know it by looking at his eyes.
I remember being their age and facing a lot of the same anger and resentment. We took care of our parents. Made sure the alarm was on before my dad passed out. Made sure my mom ate something even when she didn’t want too. We look for hope and a change of heart but eventually you just go numb.
She used to never cry but lately its become too much. I tell her to come stay with me I want to separate her from it all. I want to show her that life outside of that isn’t always pain and anger. She starts crying again and tells me that she would except that I drink too. It hurt to hear her say it but she’s right.
“You know I wouldn’t do that right now. Not when I know that’s what you need to get away from,” I say.
I would give it up for her. I’ll give it up while she’s at the house and when we are on vacation in two weeks. I am not nervous or anxious about it. I’d do it for her because I know how much she’s hurting inside. My brother invited her over a few weeks ago and he drank a liter of vodka and went to bed. She sat on the couch and watched television.
Being where I’ve been and knowing what I know and seeing what I’ve seen one would think I’d learn something. I have in a lot of different ways. I have learned to forgive and be both sympathetic and empathetic. I’ve learned I can’t control other people’s actions only my own. I’ve learned that I have to want to be better before I can help others understand. I know and acknowledge that someday I’ll have to make a choice.
I hear everyone’s voice in the back of my head “Don’t you think you need to change something.”
Yes I say its time for change because lately I’ve put everything on hold to stay home and drink. It’s a problem that most people are never aware of. It’s a norm and it’s a thing to do. In the long run if it didn’t make me feel good while I was drinking I would have given it up a long time ago. I’m not ready to go dry. I never will be I know that deep down inside. Someone once said “I can’t see you without a drink in your hand.” But I can slow it down and start making smarter choices.
After the trip my dad is going to leave my mom. I know that now because I hear the fear in his voice. Before it was just a threat. My brother tells me that when he gets back if things don’t change he’ll stop speaking to her. In a sort of twisted way I kind of wish she had stayed sick at least it wasn’t happening then. I feel twelve again. Helpless and scared.
Scared for her and the lonely life that is ahead of her. I want to get in her head. I want to get her help but there is nothing I can do. This Sunday is Easter Sunday. Most families will sit and have brunch and make eggs like we used too. I want to hate that they get to have that and we can’t even have a simple conversation anymore.
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| Listening to the rain |
| 03.23.05 (1:59 pm) [edit] |
Against the window last night I fell asleep thinking about where I am in my life. I had a conversation with one of my roommates about projecting one’s unhappiness on one another. We respect each other’s space and thoughts for the most part. Lately however it has started to feel a little suffocating.
I explained that while I understood where his need to be “fatherly” comes from it’s not always done with those intentions. It’s odd how one can step back and tell everyone else what to do and not go through with one’s own plans. It’s odd how we can all dictate and not look at our own faults. I try to leave people alone and let them do what they do. Lord knows I am in NO position to tell anyone else what to do or how to run their lives.
I’ve come to terms with living with the boys. One is passive, one is aggressive. I know how hard it is for one to hold his tongue while the other barely says anything at all. That leaves me just getting through another day. Step by step. I complain. I drink. I laugh. I learn. I move on if its possible. I am emotional. I am indecisive. I am lazy and would rather stay at home than go out anymore. I’ve grown into a different person. I am not completely happy but no as miserable. Some days are longer and harder than others especially when it comes to my family but I am ok with that.
Sometimes I wish I were a little stronger, a little more aggressive. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so obsessive about things and I actually got off my ass to make necessary changes. I get told to go out and experience life but I guess right now this is it for me. I have things I need to learn. I have things I have to come to terms with. I am not you and you are not me and that’s ok.
We live on our own terms and by our own rules. We have to make our own choices.
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| Work, work and more work |
| 03.21.05 (9:53 am) [edit] |
So I committed myself to working this last weekend at the SF Flower show on top of my bar backing job. It all started last weekend when I blew money like I was Puffy Daddy with pocket change to throw around. No regrets of course until I realized that I still had rent, fines, bills and a vacation coming up so I sucked it up and asked for more hours at the bar which they gave to me.
I worked Thursday night until midnight, Friday morning, Friday night, Saturday morning and Sunday at 1pm. I am worn out. My vacation (which I am more than looking forward to) is two weeks away and I can’t wait. I am traveling to the lush land of Guatemala to be one with the jungle and the temples. Ok I’m worried that I am going to get eaten by a giant snake but who cares! I am a little stressed out because it’s a two week trip with my family.
The upside of course is that my sister has never been and my brothers don’t remember what it’s like. I am ECSTATIC for them. The downside I am worried that my parents will not get along and things could get ugly. I told friends that they would hear about a tourist running through the jungles and yelling crazy things in the news (I am not a tourist. I am a native but that’s neither here nor there). Who knows maybe I will eat some wild flowers and be enlightened! Then I’d feed it to my parents in their black beans and hope they find enlightenment as well. Ok I am tired.
I also discovered the combination of bubbles, hot water and candles this weekend. After the long days I soaked in the tub with my NEW scented sexy candles that I bought at the flower show this weekend. I GET it. I slept like a log.
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| Her Scent on my Pillow |
| 03.17.05 (4:01 pm) [edit] |
I invited someone to stay with me last night. I met her in passing a week ago through a friend. Last night it was her birthday and to be honest her forwardness makes me nervous but then I remind myself that she’s just a girl like me. I invited her to stay despite her seven year relationship. I invited her to stay despite knowing she has a child at home. I invited her because I know she wanted to stay with me last night and it’s been a long while since anyone has made that known to me. I thought of mine and Cruzando’s conversation about wanting to be wanted. It was so easy to just crawl into bed and she fit the way people fit when you think they belong there. I knew deep down that she didn’t belong to me and definitely not there.
You can’t give her what she needs. I told myself over and over as we drifted in and out of conversation. Drifted in and out of lazy sleep. My big bed didn’t feel so big anymore. I gave her vague answers to her many questions and yet she still found me endearing. She left me in the early hours to go home. I got up once and was confused because her side was empty.
I went home today to take a nap today for lunch. I crawled into my bed and noticed the smell of her perfume on my pillow. I set it aside and grabbed a different one worried that if I lay on it the scent would go away.
It’s just a gentle reminder of what could have happened but didn’t.
“**** explained to me that you have morals,” she said to me smiling.
“What?” I asked semi-surprised.
“We don’t have to do anything but I don’t want to lay here all night because I can’t get used to this,” she whispered back.
“Ok. It’s not that I don’t want to,” I tell her.
“I know but I like that you respect what’s going on,” she said.
“So you are going to leave?” I ask.
“I have too because I don’t think I could just lie here,” she says back. “I’ll wait until you fall asleep.”
I didn’t fall asleep until almost four o’clock this morning and now all I have left is her scent on my pillow.
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| The Gym |
| 03.16.05 (3:55 pm) [edit] |
We walked through the door at about 7:45pm figuring the peak period was over. I don’t like to go when the place is packed. We wanted to see what the other facility looked like since my other roommate now has a membership as well and it’s the one he goes too. So now we are a gym going, L-word watching, straight girl chasing (that’s me)/gay boy chasing (that’s me too cause I love everyone), let’s get in shape home. I don’t know how long this will last but its been going on for about three weeks for me, not as consecutively as I would like it to be. There are other things I prefer such as drinking, watching television, eating pizza, having hot random sex (oh wait that’s not me is it?) you know all the GOOD shit.
Anyway in we walked. The smell of the gym (if you’ve never been to one) is a stale smell of sweat and air conditioning. No amount of cologne or perfume would ever mask the scent that hits your senses as soon as you walk through that door (though some have tried). You could hear the swooshing of the machines, the pounding of the feet, the grunts of the weight lifters, and the music trying to motivate everyone to keep going. The place was still full which freaks me out. I get paranoid about being there. All of sudden I’m more aware of my body in comparison to the more sculpted creatures walking around all over the place.
I get on the tread machine in front of the aerobics room. There was a dance class going on inside. I could see the instructor warming her class up with stretches this way and that way. “This would be a good distraction” I thought to myself at least this way I won’t think about how long I’ve been running. In the back of the room was an older gentleman with gray hair. I thought it a little odd since the class was mostly woman but whatever. So I start to run and watched as bodies made their way by me for about 25 minutes.
In those 25 minutes I laughed at myself at least two times. Once cause I saw the older gentleman trip over himself as he tried to shimmy along with his class (yes I know it was wrong but you just had to see it!), two because I SWORE something was going on “down der” half way through the run and I could imagine myself having an “O”, falling on the tread mill and being flung backwards off of it. I don’t know if that’s ever happened to anyone else and I’m sure its not anything I’ve ever really payed attention too while I was running but the biker shorts and my underwear caused something down there to all of a sudden become rather tingly but thankfully enough it passed. At least no one could tell and if it hadn’t passed I would have had to stop. You know while I understand the body getting urges I don’t understand why it happened then. I can only imagine the look of confusion on my face for those few seconds.
Anyway no more peak hours for me. Obviously my lower regions have a mind of their own and well I can’t afford to have a head concussion from being thrown off a treadmill.
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| Where you at?? |
| 03.15.05 (3:21 pm) [edit] |
I haven’t had time to write so much recently. I don’t want to become repetitive in what I put on here so I just let it be and when it comes to me I put it down.
Recently a friend of mine gave me a challenge to help my creative juices flowing. It took me two weeks to get it down right. My story is being featured on Nameless’s page to the link on the left. (If you haven’t all ready I encourage you to poke around on her page.) It was interesting to write someone else’s story because it gave me something else to think about. Not that my life is that dull but you can only write so much about classes, and people whom you are around all the time. I like doing things and going places but in the last couple of years I’ve lost all that. Like anything else I don’t force myself to feel anything but what ever it is at the moment. To write you need substance and I lack that sometimes.
This weekend was full of luscious ladies and handsome boys. There was dancing and laughing. I went shopping and had a break down. I watched The Omen after a night of drinking till 5 in the morning only to get up at 8 am to start cleaning house for……..****drum roll**** the very FIRST BBQ of the season. There were birthday hugs and kisses (on the cheeks unfortunately). Can we just talk about the AMAZING weather we are experiencing these last few weeks?
That’s it for now. Don’t for get to look at the story on Nameless’s page under the Erotica Link. I’ll be working on becoming a writer…….
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| I was better |
| 03.09.05 (4:15 pm) [edit] |
I dreamt that I slapped my mom the other night. I slapped her and then cried as she laughed at me. All the hurt came echoing off the walls making the dream unbearable. I wish right now I had more to write about.
(I just realized that I didn't put that it was a dream).
I was better as a drunk and an asshole.
I was better at going out till dawn and calling in sick.
I was better at pretending the hangovers weren’t killing me and eating mints all day.
I was better at being unemotional worrying only about when the clock hit 5 and stopping for a beer (or 9) after work.
I was better when I wasn’t worrying about being fat.
I was better when I wasn’t worried about being so alone.
I was better when I wasn’t pouring out my soul to a bunch of strangers.
I want to disconnect from everything and everyone. I want to sleep until it hurts. I want to wake up and let everything be ok.
I was better when I wasn’t feeling anything at all…………
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| There is a rift... |
| 03.04.05 (12:44 pm) [edit] |
I wrote this to my siblings this morning because it needed to be said and I am better on paper than in person.
There is a tear in our perfect little world. When it tore out came the lies and the insecurities and the fears of our reality. It spilled onto the floor thick and heavy. No one wants to take responsibility for it. The way we talk, the way we hug, the way we communicate is broken. We feel sorry for each other. We are strangers all over again. The thing that I hate the most is that knowing what I know now I want to go back and make sure things don’t happen the way destiny seems to have dealt this hand.
This morning when I awoke I looked in the mirror to find an old familiar face staring back at me. The tired, red-eyed, shaky feeling scared girl still trying to be someone else. The cold water feels good as I try to shake the hangover off me. I don’t want this.
Yesterday when I saw her I saw what she never lets anyone see. I saw her pain in those big brown eyes. I saw the little girl that used to let me kiss her owies to make them better. It made me sad. Like when Aida passed, like when my grandfather died, like when my mom had to have her surgery but I am not allowed to make promises that I know I can’t keep. So I page her a little note to tell her how much she is loved because sometimes the pain doesn’t allow you to see it. I need her like I need air and water to survive.
When I spoke to him this morning I could tell he was hurting too. For reasons unknown he hides trying to become the man he is capable of being but holding on to the little boy that he’s always been. Tired and alone and unsure. Drunk and heavy from the inside out. I know you and the road you are paving but you wont listen. No one listens when they are in the grips of something that they think they can control. You don’t see it not even when you are at the bottom of the last bottle and you are thirsty for more. You forget the consequences. You learn to ignore when your body is saying no more. You push and push and one day you’ll wake up and not know who you are anymore. You’ll wake up and not have anyone standing with you and everything will go black. Trust me I know.
When I called you last night I talked to you because somehow you believe that things will get better. We are opposite ends of the spectrum. I am the ying to your yang. You the perfect son, me the fucked up daughter (sometimes I wonder why it’s not the opposite). It’s hard isn’t it to carry that cross? To have to be the one to not mess up. If they only knew how un-perfect you really are. How like the rest of us you hurt too. How you struggle to find the right words to say all the time. What can you say when you are still trying to find all the answers? What can you do when you are just as scared but you aren’t suppose to show it?
We are all so different. So unsure. So afraid. We are bound by blood, by love, by understanding most importantly by forgiveness but that doesn’t give us the right to take advantage. That just means that we have to be more aware not to hurt each other. It means that I am no better than you are but I am no worse either. It means that I have to change so that I never become a stranger, so that no matter what I know I have you to lean on and that makes me feel safe in an unsure world.
**** I am scared for you because you don’t see it. ***** I am scared for you because I don’t want you to lose faith. **** I’m scared for you because you don’t have to be perfect.
As for me…..I am scared for me because I cant kiss the owie and make it go away.
With unconditional eternal love
*****
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| What is it about relationships |
| 03.02.05 (9:56 am) [edit] |
That make people stay. Last night one of my roommates best friends called to tell him that her on and off again boyfriend were having one of those “serious” conversations. Though I don’t know the details I believe it had to do with commitment and how serious the relationship really was. His answer was to pull out a ring and then he put back in his pocket. He did not yell at the top of his lungs that he loved her or wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He didn’t apologize for not telling her how he really felt. Nope he dangled it on a rope and then stuck it on a pole to see if she’ll follow. Now perhaps that’s me being a woman but come on?
Like Cruzadno said, “He’s a coward ass bitch and you never want to see him again.”
Her response, “Well if there is a wedding would you come?”
So the story goes. His obvious need to make her see what he sees kept him on the phone talking about it for a little while longer. Then he hung up and came into the room. He was laughing and shaking his head.
“What do you think it is?” I asked. “I mean why would you stay in something that you know is just not good for you?”
I made a mental note of all the people I knew in some kind of relationship and for the sake of no one getting pissed at me I won’t go down the list because it’s not place. Of course I don’t believe that relationships are perfect but you have to know when someone is treating you the way you deserve to be treated. Cruzando is the first person I’ve EVER met that knew when to walk away even if it hurt he knew it was no longer healthy. So he made a choice and it’s not an easy path to go down. I know.
Sometimes love just isn’t enough.
That phrase sticks with me. It is a haunting reality. So much so that most will not acknowledge it for fear of being alone. Relationships recreate you. It takes who you think you are and strips it leaving you naked and vulnerable. I think of how so many settle. I think of how money plays such a role. I think of how alone most people are. I wonder how many really experience it. I think of how I am one of the helpless fools. I think of how many people just go from one person to the next just filling in the space.
Lonely empty moments to remind you of the things you once had. Quiet echos of the mistakes and the “what if I hadn’t met him/her would my life be better?” Loud moments of your soul crashing into itself and your heart begging you to make the pain go away. You sacrifice the core of who you are for the unforgettable moments of that touch, those words, that need to feel wanted and complete.
I woke up this morning aware that when he involved me in the conversation it made me think of things that I had made an effort to forget. I woke up feeling more alone than I have in a very long time. Alone in the sense that it’s selfish of me to not want anyone to be a part of me. Alone in a sense that I can’t give that side to just anyone. Alone in a sense that I don’t want to feel that way again. Ever.
I can lust after anyone because I do it well we all know that but love? Love is a very far away, very secluded, very vulnerable place for me and that’s where it needs to stay.
The Hear Remains A Child-- Everything But the Girl
I dreamed about you again last night
you never have the same face twice
but i always know it's you
and you're always looking better than you really do
and i walk around the whole next day
feeling like i've still got something to say
but i don't know what it is
i don't know how to reach you even if i did
do i wanna hear that you forgive me?
do i wanna hear you're no good without me?
am i big enough to hear
that you never even think about me?
why should you ever think about me?
and i thought that i'd outgrow this kind of thing
tell me, aren't we supposed to mature or something?
i haven't found that yet,
is this as grown-up as we ever get?
maybe this is as good as it gets
years may go by,
i think the heart remains a child
the mind may grow wise,
but the heart just sulks and it whines and remains a child
i think the heart remains a child
why don't you love me?
why don't you love me?
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| Fuck the Change |
| 03.01.05 (11:39 am) [edit] |
“Can I get your autograph??” the bum yelled as we strolled by.
He was talking about her of course because they ALWAYS ask me for change. The boys were behind us and no one wanted to be the first to laugh. I looked over at her and she just rolled her eyes. She had her arms folded in front of her as she walked. Then the giggles came and the background noise of the bum still yelling about how “it should be a crime to be that beautiful”. I peek at the boys and The Hot One is covering his mouth to prevent anyone from seeing the big grin and The Cute One just winks at me.
“Shit,” I think to myself.
If I had to pick a perfect night for a long dinner and drinks it would have been last night. I had forgotten what that is like. All four of us walking down the lit up streets. The air was crisp. The conversation was steady. We kept bumping into each other on the sidewalk. It was comfortable. I forget how amazing she is but I was reminded last night as the heads turned. It was a subtle reminder that her natural beauty is beyond striking but because I know her I forget that’s the first thing that people see. It was the first thing that I noticed.
We all scooted into a booth in the back of the small restaurant. The boys sat on one side and we sat opposite. I wondered if it made her uncomfortable but I didn’t notice a resistance. So I let my mind block it out. People sit next to each other C. That’s what people do. I sighed and peeked at the Hot One and he was just looking at me. He was watching me interact and I winked his way. We ordered our food up then three martini’s, two extra dirty. We shared a burger neither one of us finishing the half. The boys chowed down on their full order. Occasionally I would notice her leaning into me and I found myself trying to scoot out of her way. I thought I was taking up too much space. At some point she decided her drink wasn’t dirty enough and got up to go to the bar. We watched her walk away and then automatically all three of us leaned in for a quick meeting.
“Well?” I asked.
“Wow, I don’t know. I think I’m in love with her,” The Hot one said giggling but not without giving The Cute one’s hand a squeeze.
“See I told you.,” I said watching to see if she came back around the corner.
The Cute One just looked at me and started to laugh, “You are in for it aren’t you?”
“Yeah I think so,” I said sighing.
Then she was back and we all leaned back to our respective places. I got up to let her in. She told me to taste her drink so that I can compare the flavor. The lights had gotten turned down. Soon the place would be full of Berkeley people looking for a good time. We ordered another round and let the conversation just flow on. I commented on her cheeks being flushed and she said she was hot. In my defense girls make me dumb or something.
“So just take off your shirt,” I said.
It was so sudden and I could feel the blood rise to me head. The boys started laughing and I just took the rest of my martini down. I looked at the Cute One and he just started shaking his head.
“Sure C because I’m just a bimbo and I’m going take my shirt off for you,” she said removing her SWEATER people.
“I can’t believe I just said that out loud,” I said to no one in particular. I couldn’t look the boys in the face with out laughing. “You know that’s not what I meant right?”
She laughed and brushed my shoulder, “I know. Relax.”
If I could kick my own head I would have at that very moment. I wish I had been facing her to see her reaction but I had missed it. I was too busy being embarrassed. It is something that I do really well.
“So do you want to go somewhere else or are you going home?” I asked her a little later.
“Do you want me to go home?” she asks me with a little light in her eyes.
“You are coming with us then,” I said realizing that I was sitting much to close.
Our knees were touching and I was aware of how during the course of the night we had wound up sitting closer than needed. I also noticed that she would look me in the eyes and hold my stare. What are the rules of attraction? We rode in the car listening to some salsa. Singing and talking about how we should all go out to take the town on. Earlier in the night I had mentioned that she had memorized some of the reggeaton songs.
“I didn’t think you noticed,” she said.
“What?” I said.
“You didn’t seem impressed,” she said.
I smiled a little, “Well the minute I say something about it you’ll stop so I don’t say anything.”
“I’m not gonna stop,” she said without looking at me.
So the night carried on. Two hours later. Three strong shared drinks later. Two cherry stems tied with my tongue. Two orders of jalapeno poppers. Many, many laughs later we ended up at my house. We played some music and she danced. Then we danced. Then she danced some more. Then Cruzando danced looking good in his peach shirt and blazer. Then poof it was over. It was time to give into the buzzed dreamy feeling and call it a night. We said our goodbyes. I walked her out to her car.
“Thanks C****” she said.
“Be careful on the drive home and call me when you get in ok?” I said.
“I will I promise,” she said.
She got into her car, honked and waved bye. Into the night she went. I explained to the boys later that I really liked her but not in the “love” kind of way. I think she is fucking gorgeous yes but because of the boundries it’s always just fun. We talk and goof off and flirt I suppose.
“Well it’s a little more than obvious that you two are attracted to each other. Straight or not,” the Hot One tells me.
“I don’t want to be attracted to her though,” I say back.
The Cute one is just looking at me, “You know you can’t help that there is chemistry with you two. Especially when the guard’s down and you can cut it with a knife.”
I get ready for bed thinking, “What do they know they are just two boys in love.”
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