Fell Asleep On Someone’s Couch. Came Home and… Slept? Hell No. Wrote. ‘Cos That’s How I Roll.

I’m sitting there with a little limp mouth and sad jelly eyes and I think, I should smile before someone worries. So I do. The corners of my lips begin to creep upwards. This way I can pretend that I, in quiet contentment, am watching everyone laugh, live, but, actually, smiling is too straining. In fact, it has the adverse affect on my face. Smiling makes me want to cry. I feel sad, small and alone. Every atom feels fragile. My bones feel shrill. I feel like my skin could rip like paper. I don’t want to be tangible. I want to be in this room like a memory. I curl up in the corner and yearn for my teddy bear, my Jeffrey that I cannot sleep without, that goes on planes with me, that shares my attention with every lover. Suddenly, he comes over and wraps fairy lights around my neck and then he strokes my face and sings Sinatra to me. And then another he sits next to me and starts talking to me about something benign because he sees, I think, the emotional moat surrounding me. I hear them blast their hearts out in karaoke and I see her holding hands with him and it all makes me want to cry. I am upset that I feel like this now. I know it’s not my fault and I know (I’ve learnt) that it’s temporary but I don’t want to feel so flimsy and alone here, now. When he asked me what was wrong I said, fine, which is a stupid, lying word, and then he said, you’re going to tell me. Maybe not today, but in two, three, five days, you’re going to tell me, and I reminded myself that I must be doing something right to have such a wonderful friend, and then I thought about how funny it is that, so often, all I want is for someone to see me, to recognise my pain, and then when they do, what do I say? I’m fine. Tonight I had a new thought: I just want to meet a nice guy. As an asshole, I’ve always gone for assholes. Pothead? Check. Alcoholic? Check. Mama’s boy? Check. Schizo/ closet homo? Check? Hip-hop wannabe playa? Check. I don’t want the chase anymore. I don’t want to be put on a pedestal. I don’t want to put them on a pedestal. I just want someone to be there for me, to make me laugh, to know how to handle me and to give me fantastic orgasms.

Oh wow, look- I’m maturing.

Penis.

That’s better.

 

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Published by

Alexia

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

22 thoughts on “Fell Asleep On Someone’s Couch. Came Home and… Slept? Hell No. Wrote. ‘Cos That’s How I Roll.”

  1. how funny it is that, so often, all I want is for someone to see me, to recognise my pain, and then when they do, what do I say? I’m fine.

    zang, but that’s true.

  2. You what someone to see you, but instead I feel like you’ve seen ME.

    And I asked for a nice guy, and then matured enough to get him.

    Now I have to figure out everything I need to do to keep him. It’s easier than I’d have guessed.

  3. Have I said how much I love your writing…oh wait I have but I’ll say it again! We seem to be in a very similar state of mind right now. Thanks for pouring out words that I wish I could.

  4. I hate smiling too. Especially when I don’t really want to. Like if I’m fake laughing at a boss’s jokes. Then I hate myself for giving myself eye wrinkles just so the boss guy will like me. Horrible.

    Also… nice dates. I’ve gone through that cycle too. Why so many closet homos? And why do they want to date us?

    I’m loving your blog, my new Greek friend! Nice to meet you.

    1. Actually, these are the people I’ve actually dated. Don’t get me started on the ones that tried. Freaks. A lot of lovely guys too but of course, why would I want someone like that? Hell no, we want the bastard, the emotionally unavailable, the one that makes us consider lesbianism.
      Thank you for loving my blog; I love yours also!

  5. your soulful confessions always make me smile 🙂
    pretty, pretty

    loved this – “Suddenly, he comes over and wraps fairy lights around my neck and then he strokes my face and sings Sinatra to me.”

  6. There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting the good guy AND fantastic orgasms. Jerks, schizos, mama’s boys, pot heads etc are not the only ones that are good in the sack. It’s amazing what a turn on being treated right can be!

    As always… Amazing post

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