I'm glad you stayed over again. God, it was so long since the last time I felt you. The last time may have actually been when you were saying, "one goodbye kiss," and you grabbed me but I said, "nuh uh," and I squirmed away, out of your apartment and back into the city, which always seemed extra loud coming home from your farm. By the way, you know I only said, "nuh uh," out of pride, right. At that moment it was the only control I had.

We should hang out more before I leave. I always liked talking to you. It's hard to find people to talk to. I'm glad we did that again. That was nice. I'm glad I'm past my pride. It sucks that I was so drunk. Drinking hasn't been so fun lately. That's why I haven't been drinking so much. Sex cut with alcohol confuses me. I didn't know where I was half the time. Whenever I'm drunk I don't come, especially when I'm wearing a condom; I feel nothing. Just so you know; it's not you.

The other night with you, I felt like I was gonna vomit when we were stacked face-to-face under the covers. I was drunk enough to ignore the impending emotional reprecussions (luckily, my mild case of blues lasted only approximately three hours the next day after breakfast) because I was too concerned with trying not to puke vodka into your mouth. After only three drinks! I just haven't been drinking lately.

But you took my mind off of my nausea when we wrapped around each other, talking with nothing between, and nothing else; I felt what I am missing. I remembered. There was no way I would puke in your eyes when they were fixed on me, telling me I felt perfect. Thanks for that. Even when we're going through motions: your motions are perilous, man.

But drunk is why I could just go and go and go and go, because my blood was so thin, I could have held out forever if that was what I wanted. But after it felt like forever, that was not what I wanted. But then it was like, 'The damn thing's stuck, locked on safety.' And I was trying and trying, and then when my chest was against your soft back, it let go and I was like: 'Aaaah…I think…I can't tell…am I still inside…wait…wait.' And while I was wondering, the coming passed, I didn't feel it. But I recognized when I was on the other side. Then I was sure I was done, and I wasn't still inside. I think.

I remember, when you dumped me I was so mad at myself for not using protection with you. Especially when I saw how fast you go through boyfriends (If I were as pretty, I'd go through twice as many women). But when you're in my face, I can't hold on to worry. And alcohol is the butter on my fingers. Which is why I suggested that we sleep conjoined. Shit, why not, at that point? Since we're gonna die anyway. It felt awesome sleeping like that.

I couldn't believe how badly you seemed to want that shower in the morning. I wish you would have stayed in bed so we could have pretended more. This morning when I woke up by myself I was looking at that jewelry on my nightstand and I was thinking about the our morning, before you got up, when I was trying to talk you into staying and looking at the back of your new short hair and your tight freckled back muscles and you were staring at my clock radio and you asked, "Who's jewelry is that?"

I have to admit that, I wanted to peek over your shoulder to watch your facial reaction when I told you the rings and the necklace belonged to someone else I pretend with. Did it make you sad for a second? I wanted to make you sad, just for a second. I'm sorry. But that's why I pointed out that scrap of bandaid by the lamp; to make you laugh. I swear I was telling the truth; it is the same bandaid I had over the cancer scab on my temple two months ago. I can't bear to throw it away. I feel like it gave me something. I can't throw it away.

I didn't tell you though, that when I got up to piss, I saw your naked ass, your whole white frame actually, when you were on the phone in my kitchen down the hall making breakfast plans with that other guy. 'You are heaven,' I thought, but I didn't stop and study you. I went in and pissed. I pissed sitting down too, for some reason. Too much pretending is exhausting. I needed to sit down.

(click here to post your opinons on this s(h)ite. --- Ed.)