I Just Wanted To Fuck You

I wrote this months ago. I don’t why I didn’t post it then.

Did he ever wake up and smell the coffee? You know, I was willing to drink green tea for him. I never told him that. I never told him a lot of things. God forbid he saw me in more than two dimensions. He took a picture of me and scrawled it’s official over my face. Is he stupid? Why stroke my photograph when he could hold my hand? Am I stupid? All he wanted to stroke was his ego. There are so many women to fuck but he chose to fuck me over instead.

I love men, I do. I love the curve of their muscles, the depth of their voices, the stubble on their jawlines. I love how, if I walk a certain way, their eyes eat me up. I love the way my fury amuses them. They don’t realise that somewhere out there is a woman just like me, that each of them discarded, trying to bring other men to their knees to make up for what he did to her.

I like to rough them all up just by the way I look at them. Few of them dare to stare, not now, not anymore. I am unapologetically ruthless, zapping electric currents, shooting up with joint with machine gun eyes, wondering who will be the last man standing. Except it probably won’t be a man.

I am making an art of it: the lowered lashes, the purring voice, the gentle flutter of my fingers at my throat. I vow to be the Gilda, the Mildred, the Holly of this decade. Every gesture is intentional and sensual. My answers are lucidly elusive. I am  charmingly broken, a desirable amalgamation of strength and vulnerability. They don’t know what I am thinking and this is exciting. This is so amusing; they are so easy. This feels like champagne in my veins. I am going to steal a star from every man’s heart to fill up the tiny crack in mine. That is how big my heart is.

I said, You can’t be a good woman and an interesting one, and he agreed. Well fuck being a good woman because a good woman is still just a fuck.

You’re different.
You’re mysterious.
Don’t talk like that, you’re a nice girl.
Why do you hate us?
There’s something about you.

I just wanted to fuck you.

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Published by

Alexia

I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

21 thoughts on “I Just Wanted To Fuck You”

  1. Very, very impressive. Raw and emotional. I can see why melissagay recommended your blog. I don’t use wordpress.com, but you can follow my blog at bateague.com/blog…I think you might appreciate.

    Glad to be a “sheep”!!

  2. “I love men, I do. I love the curve of their muscles, the depth of their voices, the stubble on their jawlines. I love how, if I walk a certain way, their eyes eat me up. I love the way my fury amuses them. They don’t realise that somewhere out there is a woman just like me, that each of them discarded, trying to bring other men to their knees to make up for what he did to her.”
    Yes I just quoted an entire paragraph… Amen sister. Amen. That last sentence is gold!

  3. Pingback: In pictures
  4. Ah Lex, good work. It seems as if there’s been a slight evolution in how much of ‘yourself’ you’re feeding into these pieces and that’s when the readers ears perk up. Readers are hungry dogs. They don’t beg but they wait for the bones to be thrown on the floor. What you’re tapping into is the cathartic/creative hindrance. Believe me you’ll feel better for it when you’re up the hill.

    Best of luck,

    Gareth

  5. I love this. That whole paragraph that Melissa quoted… Just.. Love.

    I actually had a guy tell me, “you should’ve fucked me,” after I had decided against it. He was also engaged, and like you said, just wanted a …

    1. I think it’s awesome that I’m friends with someone who uses words like ‘dagnabbit’. Also, I have officially decided that it was Sunshine that got you sick.

  6. This title speaks to me… no wait I think I mean I wish you were speaking to me with this title;).

    I think the problem with both of us is we know what we want, but we shoot ourselves in the foot because we spend more time and energy pushing what we want away.

    Of course that does give us the empty satisfaction of saying, “see they are the same.”

    I still lov ya germie.

  7. Yeah, still fucking incredible. After a while now of following you I would not mind if we were to meet. However, this work in particular makes me deeply desire to catch an anonymous glimpse of this look…to overhear a few words of this tone.

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