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Holiday, 1938

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lorrie mooreapalooza.

Love Notebook #4

Before The Girl, there was another man, an in between man if you will. Thinking back on things, he was the one I should have considered being in a relationship with, not the lesbian or the treehugger or that guy who wanted to make documentaries about turtles for PBS. I should have been with this guy because he was the wilder version of me; he made my antics look like kindergarten shit. He saw me for what I was: a conflicted, heartbroken, eternally filthy 19-year-old girl with a taste for drinking and fucking in the afternoon. He carried a torch for his much smarter ex-girlfriend who had left and I had her eyes and breasts. His name was Dirk and for three weeks, he was a permanent fixture in the passenger seat of my car. This installment is about the shortest love stories.

We met long before anything happened between us at some sort of gathering of mutual friends. He was tall and looked like he had stepped off the cover of a Sex Pistols record. Bleached hair, tight pants that revealed just enough package, old faded t-shirt, tattoos all over including his ex-girlfriend’s name on his forearm and some sort of abstract design on his neck. Not tribal, thank god. I was poured into a 1950’s style floral circle skirt dress, waist cinched, breasts presented as a gift to all in view. I was nursing an amaretto sour next to my then-boyfriend and I felt him looking at me. I looked at him and he licked his lips. He winked before turning and walking away. I was pissed off and aroused; I held onto my boyfriend’s hand more tightly.

“Who was the guy who looked like he should be in a Clash tribute band?” I asked my boyfriend as we drove home.

“That’s Dirk. He doesn’t really do much, he’s sort of just known around town. He used to live with his ex but she went to grad school somewhere in Iowa or something when they broke up and he’s stuck around town. We hung out a few times last year, before you moved here. Why?”

“No reason.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, definitely. I just hadn’t seen in anyone in an outfit like that since I was in the 8th grade going to the mall.” I looked out the passenger window the rest of the way home.

The next morning I had a new friend request on Myspace. It was 2005, after all. I accepted it although I was still annoyed by this guy’s whole schtick. I thought I might as well be friendly since we ran in the same crowds. He and I saw each other at a few parties and events over the next few months but didn’t communicate except for looks: his lascivious towards me and mine outwardly indignant but pleased and giddy inside. I turned my nose up at him and grinned as soon as my back was turned.

A few months later, my boyfriend and I were over. It may have been a fight over me eating gummi bears which “have gelatin in them, babe, and are definitely not vegetarian” and my ex not wanting to kiss me as a result. Man, I was such a dick with all the gelatin and exploited gummi bear limbs in my mouth. I moved out two days later. I changed all the appropriate internet relationship statuses to single. I was torn up about the breakup but I was very pleased to be able to eat cheeseburgers all the live long day. I went to work a few days a week and spent the rest of the time reading all the books that had piled up in my own apartment for months. Books are on the top five list of best boyfriends after all; they just don’t have cocks most of the time. Notice I said most.

I checked my email in between pottery classes at work and saw I had a Myspace comment from Dirk, everyone’s favorite Sid Vicious impersonator. I clicked on the link and opened my profile to read it.

“I want to eat chocolate chip pancakes with you.”

Now, I sat there for a good ten minutes wondering what the fuck this message could mean. We had barely said more than hello to each other and now he was giving me this specific request. I soon realized that my user info included the saucy information: “I like to eat chocolate chip pancakes after sex.” Well. It all made sense. I wasn’t sure how to respond so I sent him a message with my phone number and asked him if he preferred milk or semi sweet chocolate chips. I smirked all day at the thought of his comment. He called late that night right before I was getting ready to go to sleep.

“Hey, I meant to call you a lot earlier. I’m sorry.” His voice sounded rough and I could hear the even in and out of his breathing.

“It’s okay. What are you up to?” I paced my bedroom floor, hopping from foot to foot and trying not to sound too eager.

“I watched like, a shitload of Deadwood. My roommate had it on dvd and I just sat on the couch and smoked cigarettes and stared at the screen. That show is fucking amazing.”

“I like it. Although I think that Doris Day was a much more attractive Calamity Jane but you know, realism.” I pulled at the loose rug fibers with my toes.

“I never saw her as Calamity Jane but she was hot. My mom used to watch all those movies she did with that Rock Hudson dude. Who would think he was gay? That guy was fucking macho.” He laughed a little but I could tell he was trying to charm me.

“I know, I watched those movies with my grandma and I always had a huge crush on him as a kid.” I was quiet for a second. “Um, thanks for the comment.”

“Oh. No, don’t thank me, it’s just the truth. I want to. Are you busy tomorrow afternoon?” I heard him lighting a cigarette.

“No, I work in the morning tomorrow but then I’m free. What did you want to do?”

“I have ideas, just pick me up at 1. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, definitely. Text me directions to your house. I’ll see you then.”

“I hope you have sweet dreams.” He sounded sincere about that even over the phone.

We said goodbye and hung up. He texted me the very simple directions a few minutes later and I set down my phone to charge for the night. I laid in bed that night and mentally sifted through my closet thinking of what I could possibly wear the next day. I ended up picking something ambiguous since I had no idea what we were doing: tight jeans I had cut off before to mid thigh, a long yellow tanktop that fit more like a very short dress, and a chocolate brown cardigan. I had cut my hair into a fauxhawk a few months before and it was growing out and becoming floppy, falling into my eyes all the time. I looked in the mirror over and over again at home and continued to do so at work as well; I stared at the reflection of my ass in shorts in the glass window of the pottery classroom and tried to wink at myself to gain courage. My coworker saw this and laughed.

I left work at 12:30 and set on my way to pick up Dirk. Surprisingly I made it to his house without a problem, a miracle seeing as how I am directionally challenged. It was an old house downtown, not in the trendy part of downtown with the pretty houses with the jacaranda trees, but a few blocks east where things were a bit rougher. The house was painted a dusty blue and the driveway was mostly dirt and weeds. I parked and walked up to the door trying not to trip on the unruly lawn. I knocked and waited. I could hear shuffling towards the door and then the footsteps became more decisive. Dirk opened the door and smiled at me. He was holding a small dufflebag, the kind a kid might take to karate class or Little League practice.

“Nice purse.” I smirked and crossed my arms across my chest.

“It’s obviously not a purse, it’s just a bag.” He looked ridiculous in his tight pants and worn jacket holding this lilliputian bag in his hands.

“Ok. You and your pocketbook ready to go, Nana?” I avoided the smack to my arm and started towards the car.

He locked the door and walked to the car. He got in the passenger seat and adjusted the seat to make room for his legs. We buckled our seatbelts and I stuck the key in the ignition and turned the engine over. The Flaming Lips played on my cd player and we both just sat for a minute looking at each other.

“What are we doing today?” I asked, my hands playing with the frayed edges of my cutoffs.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.”

“Well, I’m driving so I kind of have to know.”

“Just drive to College Village and park in the front.”

“Why are we going there?” I raised my eyebrows. College Village was a sketchy apartment complex near campus. I’d smoked a lot of weed there.

“Will you just drive there please? You must be a pain in the ass on Christmas.”

“Fine. I’m only a pain in the ass on Christmas because I whine about Baby Jesus stealing the thunder from my birthday.” I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway and began driving towards University Avenue.

“Your birthday’s on Christmas? That has to suck.” He put the small bag in between his feet.

“No, it’s the 28th actually but everyone’s hopped up on egg nog the whole month so no one cares about my birthday. It’s especially fucked since historically no one’s even sure if Jesus was even born on December 25th so it’s really just fucking with my birthday for no reason.” I made a right hand turn at the light and drove west towards College Village.

“You look cute when you’re talking shit about Jesus.” I could feel him smiling a real smile at me, one with his eyes.

“It’s BABY Jesus I’m pissed at. The grown up one with the twelve dude stalkers and the water-into-wine alcoholism is alright by me.”

We arrived quickly since our town was the size of a shoebox and I turned into the tiny parking area. I pulled into a parking space and turned the car off. Dirk got out of the car and grabbed the bag. I wondered what the fuck could be in there and followed him.

“Who are we visiting?” I asked. I put on my sunglasses as I followed him.

“No one, follow me.”

He walked around the building towards the back and I wondered if this was how I died. Getting murdered in a trashy student apartment complex by a man who winked at me for months and probably knew about that freckle on my pussy without having ever seen it. He just knew, I could tell. I walked close behind him and soon he stopped. There it was. The College Village pool. Everyone knew it as a cesspool full of diseased from student orgies and keggers that spilled over from the frat house next door. Apparently, the water was infested with syphilis; I’m not even sure if chlorinated water can contain syphilis but I wasn’t going to find out.

“No. The end.” I made a stern face at him and refused to budge.

“We’re not going to swim in it, we’re just going to enjoy the sun and have a nice afternoon by the pool. Come on.”

“Even if we weren’t going to swim in it, it’s locked for maintenance so new plan.”

“It’s a gate. Don’t tell me you’ve never climbed a gate before.” He had a slightly pouting look on his face and I was cracking.

“Of course I have, when I was a kid. I just don’t know if a gross pool and its deck are worth it.”

“Come on, honey.”

That fucker. He had somehow found out that I melted when men called me honey. I’d watched too many old movies as a little girl. Thanks for helping make me an easy mark, Grandma.

“Fine but I’m going to kill you if anything goes wrong.”

I walked towards the gate and put my right foot up on part of the lock and dropped my keys over the other side. I pushed up on my leg and hopped over pretty easily. Dirk grinned and hopped over with much more ease as if he jumped fences in his sleep. I looked around me at the pool deck and was surprised it wasn’t seedier. I expected used condoms filled with jizz and beer cans and whatnot lying around and instead all I got was a generic apartment complex pool. This could have been Melrose Place for Christ’s sake.

I sat down on a deck chair and kicked off my ballet flats. I wiggled my toes in the sunlight and tried to ignore the stickiness that is a Florida summer. Dirk sat down on the end of the chair and separated my feet over the edges of the chair so he could put down his bag. He unzipped it and took out two plastic cups, a small bottle of orange juice, and a big bottle of Popov Vodka. You may know Popov by its street name of isopropyl alcohol.

“Nice afternoon indeed. My liver’s going to cry from that stuff,” I said as I pulled my feet in to sit indian style.

“Hey, try to relax and enjoy the smooth swallows of Popov. Ok, princess?” He poured vodka into the cups first.

“Oh, I will. I didn’t need my throat anyways.”

He mixed drinks and we bumped cups as plastic hinders clinking. We drank them down quickly, my throat indeed stinging from the cheap vodka. We each had a second screwdriver and then proceeded to have a few shots of the Popov without chasers. The hot day felt stifling and I laid back in the deck chair and closed my eyes. Dirk pulled my feet into his lap and massaged them. I opened my eyes to see him looking at my toes.

“I just like them.”

He looked bashful all of a sudden with my feet in his hands. I smiled drunkenly at him and rested my head back as I looked at him. He kept massaging my feet and I relaxed again and closed my eyes. I could feel the sun beginning to burn my nose when I felt Dirk put my feet down on the chair and stand up. I opened my eyes to see him stripping down to his boxerbriefs and standing at the edge of the pool.

“Oh God, please don’t. You’re going to catch something.” I sat up straight too quickly and felt dizzy from the alcohol. “Seriously.”

“It’s fine, I promise.” He stuck one toe in.

“No, it’s gross, please.” I was concerned but I stared mostly at his broad back as he stood at the edge of the water.

“Looks fine.”

He dived in and the splash reached me in my chair. I groaned a little and watched him surface. He had this shit eating grin on his face as he floated and looked at me.

“Honey, it feels great. It’s not dirty at all.”

“When you get syphilis, you’ll be singing a different tune.” I tried to wipe off the water on me to no avail.

“Get your ass in the water, stop being a brat.” He swam in little circles and floated on his back. The water did look delicious, mostly because he was in it.

“Even if I wanted to, I’m not wearing a swimsuit.”

“Neither am I. No one’s even here, just get in in your bra and panties.”

I had no retort, my reflexes and wit dulled by the Popov. I stood up and began to undress in the sunshine. It was different than taking my clothes off at the beach, I felt like I was undressing for sex except I was surrounded by buildings and lit by a glowing, dying star; I liked it and took my time. I unbuttoned my shorts and let them slide down with a wiggle of my hips. I shrugged off my cardigan and lifted my tanktop over my head and dropped it on the ground. I felt his eyes on me. I stood in a bra and panties set I still own, soft kelly green cotton with blue lace on the edges. I was so glad I had matched my bra to my underwear for the first time maybe ever in my life. I walked to the edge of the pool and stood with my hands on my hips. I was still unsure about getting in. I closed my eyes tight and hoped I wouldn’t catch anything as I dived in, arms over my head.

There is nothing better than being in water when you’re drunk, whether it’s a pool or ocean or bathtub. It is truly glorious. As soon as my body floated through the chlorine as I surfaced, I realized I could care less if I got syphilis or not. I was beyond happy. Dirk was next to me when I surfaced and slid his hands around my waist and pulled me close.

“I told you it was nice,” he said as he pushed my hair out of my eyes.

“It’s alright. That’s all I’ll give you.” I laid my head on his shoulder as we kicked to stay above water and smelled his skin. He smelled clean and masculine.

“No, say it. You know this is awesome in this heat.” He swam towards the wall of the middle of the pool and didn’t let go of me, pushing us both towards the wall.

“Nope. It’s just alright.” I was up against the wall and he could stand there but I couldn’t. He kept his hands around my waist and pressed against me while taking my legs and wrapping them around his waist. He wrapped his right hand around my neck and ran his fingers along my collarbone.

“Tell me, honey,” he whispered. He lowered his lips to my neck and slowly began to lick it.

“Mmm. No.” I felt his wet bleached hair dripping on me and I leaned my head back against the edge of the pool as he continued to suck on my neck.

He tried to push me further against the wall but there was nowhere to go. My shoulderblades dug into the cement. He began to kiss down from my neck to my breasts. He lowered one bra strap and released my left breast from its underwire cage. My nipple was instantly hard from the water and arousal and his mouth kissing it didn’t help matters. He came back up and met my eyes. His breath was hot and citrusy near my mouth. I could feel my heart throbbing in my brain and stomach.

“Say it.” He ran his hand along my cheek.

“It’s great. It’s amazing.” I was out of breath and could feel myself dizzy as I tried to inhale and exhale.

He slammed his mouth to mine and I opened my mouth for his tongue. Our mouths tasted the same and I explored his with my tongue. I felt like I was swimming in there. I felt him hard against my ass since my legs were wrapped around his waist; I wiggled against him as we kissed and he moaned into my mouth. His hands roamed over my breasts until finally he just had me pinned by the arms to the pool wall. We were attached mouth to mouth, his hands to my forearms.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Our heads snapped up to see a secutiry guard staring at us. He was of the bumbling white dude variety so we weren’t so much terrified as we were just surprised.

“You can’t use this pool, they’re doing maintenance on it right now,” he said, staying by the gate but his eyes clearly on my exposed breast. I sunk slightly underwater to hide from his gaze.

“We’ll get out of here, dude,” Dirk said, casually moving his arm in front of me to cover me up a bit.

“You have five minutes or I’m calling the cops.” The security guard walked away but stuck close by to make sure we got out of there.

I started laughing and DIrk tried to shush me but he started laughing as well. We continued kissing for a bit while floating around since after all we had five minutes. Our hands teased each other as we laughed at the Don Knotts-esque security guard. Dirk kissed my nose and nibbled on it a little.

“That’s it, I warned you. I’m calling the cops,” the guard yelled. He started dialing his phone as he walked back to his car.

“Fuck, let’s go,” Dirk said, swimming to the ladder quickly and bounding the rungs to get out of the water.

I swam close behind and stepped onto the ladder but when my foot reached the second rung, I slipped and my left thigh met the edge of the ladder railing sharply. I screamed moreso than usual having been drinking, but I was genuinely scared when I pulled back and saw the huge gash on my leg and the water around it swirling with red billows of blood. I held onto the grip with one hand but fell back a little as I looked at my leg in shock; the only thought I had was of syphilis in my open wound. Dirk ran over and grabbed me by the arms to try and pull me out but I couldn’t move. He finally scooped me up and pulled me onto the ground. He looked at my leg for a half second and then ran and got his shirt and tied it around my thigh. The blood soaked through his old tshirt but I stood up with Dirk’s help and I wobbled towards the gate. Dirk grabbed our stuff and we opened the gate which the guard had left unlocked.

“Hurry up. Get the fuck out of here,” the guard ordered.

“Calm the fuck down, man, she’s hurt,” Dirk said angrily. I held onto his arm, worried he might hit this guy square in the jaw.

“That’s what happens when you trespass. Dumb fucking kids.” The guard locked the gate behind us.

“Fucker,” Dirk muttered.

We began walking to the car or rather, I hobbled. Dirk stood in front of me and crouched sort of and picked me up on his back despite my assurances that I was fine. I wrapped my arms around his neck loosely as he walked back to my car. I told him to put me down when I felt myself bleeding onto his jacket but he refused. I rested my cheek next to his head and thought about how despite being yelled at by a guard and bleeding profusely, this was pretty damn nice.

We reached my car and Dirk wouldn’t give me my keys. He put me down, unlocked the passenger door, and held it open for me. There was no arguing with him so I sat down. I was still only wearing my bra and panties and I was bleeding onto my car’s interior but all I could think of was kissing Dirk again. He walked around the front of the car and got into the driver’s seat adjusting for leg space for the second time that day. Reaching over and putting his hand on my cheek, he leaned in and kissed me softly.

“Are you ok?” he said, looking down at my bleeding thigh.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Can I drive my car though please?” I leaned in and bit his bottom lip a bit.

“No way, look at your leg. Plus you’ve been drinking.” His brow remained furrowed as he looked at my injury.

“I’m fine, it’s a flesh wound, I was just shocked and overreacted. You’re drunk, too.”

“Look at all the blood, we have to go to the hospital. It might need stitches.” He placed his right hand on my thigh as if trying to close the gash with his mind.

“I don’t want to go. I’m fine.” I kissed his neck softly. It tasted like chlorine.

“You were saying the pool had syphilis before and now you have an open wound from that pool and you don’t want to go to the hospital?” He tried to pull away in an attempt to be serious.

“I was overreacting, really. I just don’t want to go to the hospital, they scare me. Plus, what are you going to tell them about giving a 19-year-old girl vodka?”

“Fuck, I didn’t even think of that. Okay. We have to put a real bandage on it though at least.”

“So drive to Walgreens and let’s get some.” I put on my seatbelt.

“Right. Good idea.” He looked like he was in shock.

“Are you ok?” I asked. His skin was so white.

“Yeah, I just feel like an asshole. This is all my fault, that you got hurt.”

“No, not even. It was that guard if anyone, and it was really just an accident. Ok?” I reached for his hand and held onto it.

“Ok. I still feel like shit though, I should have let you get out of the water first.” He squeezed my hand.

“Just stop thinking like that. It’s done.”

“Alright.”

He sighed and turned on my car. He reversed out of the space and stopped to put the car in drive. He drove onto the street, cautiously the way everyone drives a car they are unfamiliar with. We rode in silence, holding hands, for the few blocks to Walgreens. When we got there, I tried to give Dirk cash to get some bandages for my leg but he refused. He ran inside the store and I put in Bossanova by the Pixies in the meantime. I was halfway through Velouria when Dirk came out of the store.

“Come here,” he said. He maneuvered me and pulled my legs out of the car, my feet on the pavement. He got on his knees in front of me and started rifling through the bag and pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Oh, come on, you could have used the Popov instead of buying that shit,” I said. I instictively moved my legs away but he held them in place.

“Don’t be smart, I have to clean it. It’s going to hurt like fuck for a bit, I’m sorry.” He took his shirt off my leg and opened the bottle. I swallowed.

“Okay. Just do it.” I bit on my right index finger as he began to pour some alcohol on the gash. I whimpered slightly. He leaned forward to kiss my knees. I think he may have whispered sorry as he kissed them.

“Sanitized. Now, it’s just time for the Neosporin and the bandage.” He got both out of the bag and went to work and pretty soon, my leg was wrapped in gauze and tape and sealed up, no longer a bleeding hazard.

“No lollipop?” I smirked.

“That’s only for good patients, little girl.” He cleaned up all of the stuff and put it in the bag. He tied it and put it on the car floor.

“Hey.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him close by the front of his shirt. “Thank you, darlin’.”

“Anytime. Have to put those Boy Scout skills to good use somehow.” He grinned at me.

I leaned forward and kissed him slowly and deliberately. We made out for a few minutes, him still on his knees in the parking lot, my bare feet winding around him, one of them playing with one of the back pockets of his pants. Soon some kids walked by and giggled and so Dirk reluctantly stood up and got back into the car. We smiled awkwardly at each other and I rested my head back on the seat while looking at him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and scooted me onto his lap. I slid over easily, being careful with my thigh. I was still in my underwear and his arms were warm on my skin. My arms slipped around his neck and I hugged him. I can’t tell you why I wanted to hug him so badly but I just did; for once I just felt pure sweetness instead of the filthy lust that usually had me going. I knew at that moment that I would never forget the way his lips had felt on my knees when he took care of me. It was the tiniest moment of love, he wasn’t in love with me in the least but for that instant, I was the most precious thing in the world to him. I wanted to hold him so it felt tangible so I could have him in my hands even if it was just for that day and remember what it felt like to be that important to someone. It’s strange how someone can go from being nothing to something so vital to you in a specific moment. Even if the moment evaporates as soon as it begins, it existed in a moment of time true to those involved. I finally let go of him so I could look at him and I kissed him.

“Let’s get something to eat,” I said as I kissed the side of his mouth.

“What do you want to eat?” He smiled and let me kiss his face.

“Sonic.”

“Seriously? You feel okay for that?”

“Definitely. I want a burger so big that I can’t fit it into my tiny mouth.” I saw his eyes glint at this.

“Sonic it is.”

It was getting late as we drove there, the sky was beginning to get that pinky orange glow. I remember my ex telling me that the sky was so beautiful at sunset due to pollution; I said a little prayer that he would get mauled by a bear, wherever he was. The Pixies continued singing on the stereo and I told Dirk about how instead of going to see the Pixies my senior year of high school, I went to my homecoming dance which was the same night. He told me about how he put their song Caribou on a mix for a girl and she never called him back. We both had crushes on Kim Deal. On the short drive, we also learned that we came from the same hometown, had the same favorite color of gummi bear (clear), and that we thought Revolver was better than the White Album. It was the first date stuff we should have had before the swim and the wound and the first aid experience but somehow it worked.

We pulled into one of the spaces at Sonic and ordered at the window. Dirk got mozzarella sticks and a cherry slush while I got a cheeseburger, tater tots, and a blue coconut slush. To this day, I have no idea what flavor “blue” is, but it tastes like what I imagine God’s jizz to taste like if he and it exists. I wouldn’t let him pay since he had bought all of the supplies to fix my leg up and I crawled over him to stick my debit card in the computer. He rested his chin on my lower back while I punched in my pin number and ran his hand over my ass. I tried to smack his hand away but he just slid his fingers inside my underwear. I laughed as I pulled my ass away from his hand and sat against the passenger door.

“That’s naughty, our food’s coming,” I said. I tried to give him a disapproving look but I’m sure I was failing.

“We have time.” He grabbed my ankle in his hand.

“No, we definitely don’t. Plus, I’m hungry.”

“Come here.” His hand snaked up my calf and rubbed the back of my knee.

“It’s going to be here any minute.” I felt him tug me a little by that good leg and I ended up crawling over and straddling his lap, careful with my bandage.

“See? Was that so bad?” He was slightly below my face level and so he moved his lips to my neck.

“You’re so proud of yourself. Stop looking smug.” I turned my face away a bit.

“Of course I’m proud, I got you on top of me for this glorious view of your rack and that adorable chin.” His hands rested on my hips and he kissed me before I could start bickering.

I gave in entirely and we kissed and let our hands explore each other. He was shirtless since I had bled onto it earlier and I moved my hands down his smooth chest. I had never been with a man with such a smooth chest and it felt wonderful. Everything about him was so taut and light, from his skin to that bleached hair. He felt wonderful underneath me and against me. His hand was sliding under my ass, making its way into my underwear again when there was a knock on the window. Our food had arrived. It wasn’t even served by a girl on roller skates. What kind of faux 1950s fast food restaurant was this? The server looked annoyed by us being half naked and slutty in her dining establishment and practically threw our food at us.

As soon as we rolled the window back up, we laughed for a good five minutes. My muscles hurt from laughing but we kissed in between hicupping laughs. Pretty soon we were back at it in full force. I was grinding against Dirk’s crotch as the Pixies sang about my namesake undressing in the sun in Ana. He growled almost as I was grinding and he pushed my underwear aside to touch me with his hand; he moaned when he felt that I was wet. He pulled them aside entirely as I unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out from his boxers. I slid onto him easily and gasped as I felt him fill me to what seemed to be my navel. His hands gripped my hips more firmly and seemed to guide my movements as he thrusted up inside me. I bit his neck as he fucked me at a furious pace. He seemed to fuck me harder the harder I bit. I moved my hips against him and my breasts still in my bra bounced in his face as I found myself throwing my head back. I had one hand against the window and my eyes open as he slid one breast from my bra to bite my nipple. He rubbed my clit with one hand and soon after, I came hard. I arched my back as I came, hitting the steering wheel. He came soon after and I felt him shoot inside me as I was kissing him, his moans filling my throat and my lungs.

I sat with him still inside me as we kissed lazily. We were sweaty and the bandage on my leg had come loose but I didn’t even really notice. He tried to talk but I kept my mouth on his. He protested when I climbed off of him. I reached for the seat lever and pushed his seat all the way back. I got down on my knees on the floor in front of him and grabbed his half stiff cock in my hands. He smiled as if he couldn’t believe his luck. I stroked his cock for a minute or two and by the time I took the tip of it in my mouth, he was hard again. I ran my tongue over his balls and he shivered. He outright moaned when I ran my tongue along the length of his shaft. I gripped his thighs as I took him entirely into my throat and I looked up at him as I slightly gagged. He looked concerned for half a second until he understood that my look meant that I wanted him to fuck my throat, that I wanted to gag. I could taste my pussy on his cock and the thought just made me open my throat even more. I dug my nails into his thighs as I sucked him off, my tongue swirling around him fast. I could feel him throbbing in my throat and I could feel him grip my shoulder as he was about to come, as if to warn me to back away. I closed my eyes and let him shoot directly into my throat, feeling the warm, salty semen slide down my throat. It dribbled onto my lip as I finally pulled away and I licked it up. I smirked from the floor and he pulled me up into his arms.

“I want my cheeseburger now,” I said. He threw his head back and laughed a real laugh, a hearty one.

“After that performance, you can have whatever the fuck you want, honey.” He kissed my forehead and cheeks.

“Good. It smells like someone’s been fucking in here.” I crawled back to my seat and put my feet up on the dashboard. I began to lower my window.

“Some filthy animals must have been spreading their seed all over in here.” He lowered his window and relaxed back into his seat, putting away his dick in the process.

It was twilight now, and everything looked a bluish grey. We divided our food and I tore at it like a starving child. I stared at the sky as I ate what was the best cold burger of my life. Our slushes had melted but we drank the sugary syrup anyways. Our mouths became red and blue and we were a mess. I pressed my toes against the windshield and left small toe-shaped smudges. The day seemed surreal. Nothing could top the day we had in the history of first dates. We had taken a weekday afternoon and turned it into a modern day indie adaptation of the Bonnie and Clyde story. Dirk and I couldn’t hang onto anything real or serious because we weren’t there really. All we could handle were those small moments, everything else seemed too big for either one of us. There wasn’t enough oxygen in any room for the both of us, no matter how much love was in that room or how fast we could roll those windows down.

I knew that day despite my fluttering heart that there could be no future for the two of us then. We both felt too much in a colossal way. I loved him instantly in powerful moments that knocked my ribs around in my gut but we had nothing to stand on. From the moment we met, we were dancing around each other, floating through our lives in denial. He couldn’t offer me anything that wouldn’t disappear moments later and vice versa. We had lost so much before that we couldn’t risk getting hurt, not for a love that took its breaths in first aid kits and in passing tater tots in the front seat. He was a risk I couldn’t take then, I wasn’t ready for someone like him.

We were what you would call together for three weeks more or less. He was never my boyfriend and I think the most expensive thing he ever bought me was the first aid things and maybe that bottle of Popov. No, it was the first aid things for sure. I was nineteen and I was living my first summer after truly having my heart broken for the first time. I felt like love was something that was supposed to fit and just exist and be perfect on its own. I didn’t expect that I could love someone and he would leave, or that I could love someone in a way and then not want to be with him. I didn’t know that I could love a woman and feel just as safe in her arms as I did in a man’s. I didn’t understand how I could find someone who was perfect on paper but who didn’t make me feel complete or understood at all. I didn’t yet understand that I too could cheat on a lover and still be a good person. I didn’t know that trust was more about my own insecurities than about the person I was trying to trust. I didn’t yet know that I could show or tell someone everything I hate about myself and have them just say, “Okay.” I didn’t understand that someone loving you means that you could really fuck up and he’d still want to be there. I had yet to find out so many things at nineteen.

Dirk was there for three weeks but he taught me that some loves don’t have to last a long time to have an impact. Not all love is the same, I’ve learned. Not everyone is going to be your soulmate and your spouse and live happily ever after with you. You’re going to have more than one soulmate if you’re really lucky, and they’re not all going to be romantic. You’re going to have people you date for a month, ten years, and no matter how long you’re with them, they’re going to do something to the course of your life. They might fuck things up royally, but they’re still going to do some damage to the way things turn out. The people you love and fuck aren’t going to make you who you will be but they will leave their marks. Maybe it’ll be a kid for one of you. Maybe an unlucky person will have a permanent scar from some abusive shithead. My ex got a tattoo for me; no matter what happens, even if she tries to have it removed, some part of it will always remain on her. Dirk’s pool gave me a 2 inch raised white scar on my left thigh. Three years later, it’s still there to remind me anytime I’m not wearing pants. It’s faded over the years but every time I look at it, I remember the short time a guy loved me the best way he knew how.

Because, that’s the thing about love, really. No one will love you how you want to be loved, they’ll love you in the only ways they know how. Life throws everyone down drastically different paths so how can we expect everyone to love in the same way? The person you’ll spend your lifetime with will love you in their way and you’ll love in yours, and maybe you’ll meet in the middle and it’ll last. None of us know what we’re doing, you see, we’re just fumbling for matches in the dark. If you’re lucky, you might eventually just strike the right one.

requirements for a husband:

7. do take me out for a night on the town now and then.

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New Yorker cover by Adrian Tomine

"It may not be written in any book, but it is written-
You can’t go back,
you can’t repeat the unrepeatable.
No matter how fast you drive, or how hard the slide show
of memory flicks and releases,
It’s always some other place,
some other car in the driveway,
Someone unrecognizable about to open the door."

— Charles Wright, Littlefoot

“I will eat your babies, bitch!”

via

Killing the Love

I am the love killer,
I am murdering the music we thought so special,
that blazed between us, over and over.
I am murdering me, where I kneeled at your kiss.
I am pushing knives through the hands
that created two into one.
Our hands do not bleed at this,
they lie still in their dishonor.
I am taking the boats of our beds
and swamping them, letting them cough on the sea
and choke on it and go down into nothing.
I am stuffing your mouth with your
promises and watching
you vomit them out upon my face.
The Camp we directed?
I have gassed the campers.

Now I am alone with the dead,
flying off bridges,
hurling myself like a beer can into the wastebasket.
I am flying like a single red rose,
leaving a jet stream
of solitude
and yet I feel nothing,
though I fly and hurl,
my insides are empty
and my face is as blank as a wall.

Shall I call the funeral director?
He could put our two bodies into one pink casket,
those bodies from before,
and someone might send flowers,
and someone might come to mourn
and it would be in the obits,
and people would know that something died,
is no more, speaks no more, won’t even
drive a car again and all of that.

When a life is over,
the one you were living for,
where do you go?

I’ll work nights.
I’ll dance in the city.
I’ll wear red for a burning.
I’ll look at the Charles very carefully,
wearing its long legs of neon.
And the cars will go by.
The cars will go by.
And there’ll be no scream
from the lady in the red dress
dancing on her own Ellis Island,
who turns in circles,
dancing alone
as the cars go by.

-Anne Sexton