confessions of a weirdness magnet, part 13
son of a preacher man
i am confessing here, so that includes bad shit i did. this is about the man i loved more that anyone, and how i fucked it up. i met jay at the local gay bar, sitting and drinking alone, odd cause he's fucking beautiful - pale skin, black hair and puppy eyes. so i order a drink (i hate drinking, but you pretty much have to drink to tolerate drunk people) and talk to him. the man is getting plastered with determination. i suggest we go back to my place and get stoned, we go and do so - he has a bottle of vodka with him. he drinks and sucks my dick until he passes out, when i wake up, he's gone. that, for most men, counts as a very successful night, so i'm good, but i liked and would have rather he stayed. so, next friday night, about 9pm, my doorbell rings, and there's the sumbitch with a fifth of tequila (my drink) and a fifth of vodka and a shit eating grin, and i'm all, hmmm, early xmas, come on in mf. we talk more - both at the university working. he was the high school quarterback and king of the prom and at that point, i know i'm gonna fuck him, cause, hell yeah. but the night goes as the last one, even the morning with him running out the door, but i'm cool with it. and the next week - but i have tooth shit done earlier that day, and i'm on narcotics. hydrocodone makes me hyper and irritable and horny as a mf. jay arrives, no appointment needed. we sit down and smoke and i tell him, if you're gonna spend the night here, it's in my bed and i'm gonna fuck you. he says, i kid you not, no, you wouldn't do that, i thought we were friends and turns up the vodka bottle and chugs. i'm mf nonplussed. i start again, if you get drunk here tonight, i'm going to fuck you in the ass. reply: why you saying that? i just wanna hang out....and drinks from the bottle again. alright, it's on. he gets sloppy and starts eyeing my dick and i get some head, then i pick him up and guide him into my room and literally fuck the cum out of him, every way possible, including spread against the wall and with his hands pinned behind him. he LOVES it. fine. when we're done, we lay down and i snuggle him - and the mf says, thank you, that's what i needed, don't ever leave me. oh, FUCK ME. my heart melts like butter on a skillet - i mean i had a moment like the grinch in the movie. the next morning, he remembers, but all he does is say next week, thanks, man, and leave.
wtf am i suppossed to do? he'd never been fucked and i flat out raped him. and the mf liked it - and now i'm utterly, hopeless in love with him, which serves me right, doing something like that, but it ain't like i didn't warn the mf. so it goes on. now sometimes he calls me and stops by after work to blow me, and he is in heaven doing it. but if we meet for lunch, i have to act totally straight, like we're just buds, while my nuts are just singing to bend him over the table in front of god and everybody. if i mess up, no joy for me. the mf *rules* me six days out of seven, then he gets his for fucking with me. it's so smokin hot i don't know how to live with it. we're waiting in line for the bar one night and he starts in on me, which i love, and i say, but baby (gay club, okay to be out) i love you, and he responds, you don't love me, you don't know nothin about love, you just use me, you fuck me like dawg (cause he's real country, too). i tell him, but baby, i fuck you like a dawg cause i love you. shut him up.
one day, about a month in, i see him at kroger with this five foot tall south asian woman buying grocers and i don't think shit about, cause this is a college town. i go and talk to him, just whats up, cause we're in public, and mf introduces me to his WIFE. oh, man. at the time, i had more morals that i do now, and that shit bothered me. this went on for *years* and i love him like the spring loves the sun, but the wife shit was eating me up. he stayed with me while i was locked up for a month, local, cause me being a criminal got him hot. then, one day his wife reads his bills, including the credit card with hotel rooms and his phone bill and *calls me*. she asks me, in that malaysian muslim accent, if i'm fucking her husband. and i cracked and said yes. she hung up, and it's like jay vanished off the face of the earth. i didn't go to his apartment for over a month, out of shame, and they were gone. she may have killed him. that was ten years ago, and i still love that man, but it's like he doesn't exist - or more like is as computer crafty as i remember and doesn't want me to find him. i snitched on the man i loved and lost him, but i won't fuckin do it again. karma, dammit.