I should write more

The list grows.

The list grows but stagnates at the same time.

So many men, so little time?

Too many on my list are single entries – perhaps as a result of me being picky, or is it that they don’t want to return.  That they don’t want me after that initial conquest?


There’s a bleakness that comes from repeated one night stands.

There’s an emptiness that comes from meeting these men/boys and letting them use me then just falling off the radar.

Feeds the fear in the ego of never being good enough.

I let N dance with “degradation” but really, when we boil it down gentle reader, it’s abuse. He beats the crap out of me.  He makes me sleep on the floor, he speaks to me as CAAM – cunt ass and mouth.  I have no name or identity with him.  And then I pack myself up at the end and tell myself that it’s ok because really, who would want me without that aspect.  That’s a fun perspective, isn’t it – the voice that says that people only want you when they can fuck with you.  They don’t actually like you.

I play with S – knowing that this dance is contrived.  We fuck.  We fuck well and he keeps coming back.  But he leaves quickly.  We don’t embrace.  We don’t hold each other.  We don’t speak about anything that isn’t sex really.  I don’t know if I want more than that – but I ache for it.  For him?  Not sure.  I think if he were to hold me I would crumble.

Because that is really what I think I want.

I’m not falling in love – that’s so far off the table of things that I think I am capable of or deserving of.  But he’s becoming important and special and I am so in the one sided space that it hurts.  How do you even begin to tell someone that you like them more than a fuck toy.

I miss intimacy.

I look for it in strange places now.  Like with A during the show – that drink in the bar and the 4 hours of conversation.  I felt interesting, interested and I didn’t have to pretend to be something because he felt like he was genuinely interested in me.  That’s what I think I need.  To feel like there are people who want me not just because there’s a potential fuck in their future.  Even though I’m fairly sure that A knew that I’d play.  Silly boy.  But now he’s stuck in my head too as a thing that I want.  Because I want to exploit his want of me.  I like boys who want me, knowing that they shouldn’t.

This is not the life I wanted.






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