relapse
I told her I lose interest in a girl if I smash too soon.
She told me she never heard it be called that before, smash.
I said, “I been calling it that for quite some time.”
She said, “What should I call it?”
I said, “I don’t know, boning?”
She came over later that night, after work, drunk. I gave her Irish Whiskey and fed her steak.
I told her we couldn’t fuck, I’m fasting.
She said she was on her period anyway.
I told her, periods don’t bother me.
I’m a viking.
We made out on my bed. It got heated. We got good chemistry, the two of us.
I said, “Let’s chill.”
We did.
I fell asleep and woke up to her kissing my neck, rubbing my dick.
I bought a new bed because of nights like this. Fucking to fuck. I was trying to keep the new one DNA free. It was gonna be my little gift to my future girlfriend - an untainted bed, like a born-again virgin.
Then it dawned on me, that’s gay as fuck. Sure the whole celibate till you meet the right girl thing, would be nice, but it’s not practical. It’s just leaving me horny. And I’m developing a porn addiction and rash around my dick from jerking with this lotion from Trader Joe’s.
I hadn’t smashed in two months and I was about to ruin the bed. I guess we could’ve fucked on the couch, but I don’t trust the legs on that thing.
Fuck it.
I kneeled above her, lifted her skirt and yanked off her panties, took off my shirt and put it under her ass. I pulled out her tampon and threw behind the dresser. Unwrapped my rubber, put it on my dick, and fucked her.
She rode me until she came, then I came. She laid there on top of me, me, still in her, we’re panting.
It was good.
My Jordan shirt’s ruined.
She hopped in the shower.
I washed the blood off my dick in the bathroom sink.
We went to bed and fucked again in the morning.
And when I came I looked at her like, what have I done?
I’m telling her, “We shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know… We shouldn’t have done that.”
She’s smart, pretty and driven - and not for me.
I knew that before we smashed. I did it anyway.
Why the fuck, I do that?
I see the future. I see how this is gonna end. Like all the other ones. A trail of women in my wake.
How many of those “let’s keep it light” talks am I gonna have?
It’s never light, after while it’s never light.
She’s consoling me for smashing, like I’m the fucking girl. Patting my shoulder telling me it’ll be OK.
She’s telling me, “It wasn’t casual sex there was nothing casual about it.”
I stop her. I’m ruining a perfectly good night. I’m like, “How gay is this shit? Chill out ma, I’m good. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that was fun. I had a good time last night. Thank you.”
She left for work.
I got out of bed and made tea.
Drank it on the couch and said to myself, “Oh Jude, what am I gonna do with you?”
I don’t know man, I don’t know.
I’m off the wagon, again.
