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It began with a eleven o'clock call from a Lover (two hours late from the promised time to call, but I'm not that kind of girl).
It ended with a blue-balled goodbye - likely a dramatic dumping.
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but ahhhhhhh the Middle Part meinenen Kindernen...
I arrived amid drama, bad directions, and brought along my friends pomp, circumstance, and surprisingly (as I am never "holding") weed.
My Mann was dashing, beloved, appreciative, and randy.
All good, good, good.
I was festive. Nothing was refused. Everything was celebrated. I felt free and comfortable in the promise that this tease of socialization would end in fabulous, ecstatic love-making. It was all tremendously easy. The kristen party machine was on without judgement. I reveled. I made merry.
No regrets on attending (even though, had I not, I may still have a chance to make-a da Love). One, I met so many stellar people (my lover is discerning in his friends - good good). Two, the accents were peachy. Met someone from georgia (milledgeville), met a south african who was living in georgia (helen - land of oktoberfest), met someone I named "Lil' Beck" who was well-mannered (another defecting ohioan), loving, kind, generous, a fellow artist, excellently versed in music, etc. etc. Met a girl who hugged me because when you told me that the boobs I had just complemented were fake, I expressed non-plussed-ness and replied "whatever. they look GREAT - perfectly proportioned. excellent breasts." Later I made her listen to "bitches ain't shit" off my ipod.
Three, (rule of threes), I learned that my lover was not a jumper - but rather a coward and/or a liar. Luckily, I have both made these rounds (fallen in love then boom - bye bye crazy girl), and appreciate myself and have an inner strength that is solid and unwavering (danke therapy). I made myself a rule that I could stalk and contact die Mann until SUNDAY - then I was to call it a day and move on. My heart knows now that pain delayed make ms. martin very very strange and dirgelike.
Anyhoo, back to the party. There was tons of ecstasy. I did a double-take when the drug dealer said that he had some. Egads! I haven't done ecstasy in 2 years. bring it on good perveyor of merriement and peace. Hours later, I have appointed Lil' Beck as the captain of the "Safe Room" and myself as the cruise director. I feel strongly about a safe calm room for ecstasy. Some blond girl had left the door open, and I stated the one rule was that the barrier must remain. She asked how strongly I felt about it - in a playful? way? I replied that I would fight her for it. She said to bring it on. I immediately sharply pushed her out of the way and slammed the door. It did not stay open again. good good.
Later, there are only six people left at the party - all men younger than me. The rabblerouser, the drug dealer, my lover, lil' Beck, Gawain my Good Knight, and Bob the Bruce (sud-afrique besten freund de meines fucking lieber). My lover gets angry with me. I suppose - upon mining my meories - it could have been that I told him that he had a monkey on his back Brother.
It could have been that he couldn't control me. It could have been that he thought I was an asshole. It could have been that I was averse to having a menage a trois with his Brother. Nonetheless, the end result is that I see him with a lovely latina woman who was reputed to have the white dragon. fuck. fuck. fuck. he's gone. five are left. I travel like lil' red riding hood from the beds of lil' beck, then Gawain, then landing inevitably in the bed of Bob the Bruce. The beds were all top-shelf BTW. The men were all honourable and stated that I was lovely and undeserving of such treatment (earlier in the night Gawain my Good Knight defended my honour to my lover and said how disrespectful he was being to me. my lover stalked out.)
Except for my lover's 18 year best friend. He was different. I pathetically landed in his bed as I knew I would because - as I pathetically admitted - "you are my only connection to D. I will stay with you for that reason". He pretty much tried to rape me. I laughed. As if! When he stated later in the night that I could "suck his cock", I fucking-offedly replied "oh thanks... [pause]... if I loved you, I would take your cock with lovingly and willingly in my mouth and suck it with shared pleasure." He pretty much stopped mauling me after that - or was too tired. I cried in the bed - let them all out dear little Fool. It's good that you tried.
The next day, everyone left but Lil' Beck and I. We listened to Nick Drake, smoked his pot (mine was gone within 45 minutes of passing the Dutchy on the left hand side...). It was a gorgeous day. We watched the bees, seperated with our music, got back. He touched my feet and legs. We talked like people who have been apart for years. I hope I'm not arrogant in interpreting his sighs and utterances as declarations that he would gladly except my troth. Fuckit. Pretty much any of them would have. fuck fuck fuck.
Bob the Bruce was redeemed after I ripped him a new one for his treatment of me in the hypocritical face of having "south african culture and nobility".
I rather could fall in love with him if it happened.
I just want to have fun. sincerely.
Everybody love me babe but you.
Sunday.
Texted D. about fifty times.
Went to lie in the sand with my ipod and red vintage bathing costume.
It was fine.
I'll be fine.
It was very very very lovely.
I do not regret one thing.
It's good to fast forward on people. Wastes less time.
Jumping.
Will likely fall and die then realize i'm actually alive and climb up the fucking cliff alone.
no matter.
love, peace, and harmony.
maybe in the next life. maybe in the next life.
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