Saturday, September 30, 2000

whatever's fine

From the Archives
Okay, this one here is real embarrasing and I don't even know why I am putting it up here since the writing is so silly, but you know whatever. It's about Britt Dunn.

Yesterday, my bracelet br oke

the handmade circle encompassing my wrist had not been taken off once since it was put on over a week ago by a member of the male gender whom I liked for more than a

friend, but as I was told a couple of days ago the feeling was not mutual

Even, as he said those words that he didn’t want a relationship and was only interested in

casual sex I still wanted to press my lips against his and run my hand over the back of his head feeling the sensation that his short hair passing under my hand produces concurrently while experiencing the warm moisture of his lips and falsely feeling a sense of security - that the kiss was more than just a prelude to casual sex

But, while part of my mind was yearning to kiss him another part of my mind was reeling from the words that just emitted from that same mouth I wanted to kiss and it was that part of my mind that took control of my vocals when he asked me how I felt, and what did I think

and instead of telling him that I truly liked him and that he was the first person I have felt that way about that he made me feel fabulous, free, fantastic, frenetic, flowery, flammable, full, and oh fuck alliteration- he made me feel good

instead of telling him that when I saw him I got excited that I did want a relationship and that I wanted to feel that sense of security that is brought with his kiss and that I am so so sorry that I am constrained by language and that my words fall short of describing the indescribable feelings you produce in me

but, it was that part of my mind that was reeling and melancholy and experiencing a catharsis of emotions that took control of my vocals and instead of saying all that to his question asking how I felt: simply responded: whatever’s fine

he then asked me if I wanted to go back to his room and watch a movie that had yet to be determined with his friends

and again the same part of my mind responded: no, not really. and so he left with my optimism and I remained with my racing thoughts

After, he had made me the bracelet and tied it around my right wrist I experienced for the first time that fabalized version of a kiss that had that feeling that feeling I have for so long heard described and eulogized

and spending the night in his arms and in his twin-sized bed did not feel casual

kissing him the next morning with his less than minty fresh breath and his groggy, just woke up face still had that feeling

and it was that feeling that I longed to re-experience as he told me that I was nothing more to him than casual sex

and so maybe it was a good thing that the wire bracelet he had made me broke, but the operative word in that previous phrase is maybe

if this experience had not been real if it had been a story by Hawthorne or Melville or one of those other Romantics who took too much joy in creating potent symbols to reflect the state of their characters than there would have been so much symbolism in the bracelet the now broken bracelet that was made from a red wire specked with blue and whose breaking would serve as a metaphor for the break in our relationship

or, since it’s not a “relationship.” as he, himself informed me a few days ago, it would serve as a metaphor for the break in our

casual sex

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