Wednesday, August 7, 2002

free food

Motherfucking goddamn shit, is what I have to say. That is what I have to say first of all, what I have to yell, to get off my chest, before I say other things, these things:

Motherfucking goddamn shit, I am sleeping by myself tonight. Again. Meaning not with Giancarlo. Last night, I met up with him like he wanted me to, and he was there with some friend that I later found out was his ex-boyfriend, his ex that was staying at his place, which was the reason that I could not have sex with Giancarlo last night because they were very obviously going to go bone. But when his ex went next door to a different bar for a second, Giancarlo told me how we should get together and have sex tomorrow afternoon, what was today, after I got off work. I was more than down with this idea since all night I had been staring at Giancarlo, thinking that wow, I actually had sex with this boy, this beautiful boy, and it is going to happen again. This hot boy wants to, and did, have sex with me. We planned on also watching The Shining, which I was beyond excited about since that is one of my favorite movies ever, and because I haven't watched a movie in forever.

So I left Gian and his ex about fifteen minutes before bar closing and made my way to Cafeli's in hopes of getting Bonnie to walk home with me. Found her, ate Greek food with her, got a ride home with Megan Ho, and Mike R. stayed the night with us in our room since he was evicted or some such bullshit. And, I slept on my bunked bed by myself happy with the knowledge that I would be having sex with Giancarlo shortly. It was around three when I climbed into my bed, and I thought about Giancarlo more so to put myself to sleep than because I am just a big loser. The light was still on and Bonnie and Mike were babbling about PIRG since neither of them had to wake up at six for work. To thoughts of Giancarlo, I lullabied myself to sleep, to to deep a sleep because at six o'clock, I turned that motherfucking alarm clock off well aware of the consequences, of the fact that I was not going to work today, that I was going to call in sick. Which I did a couple of hours later.

I went with Bonnie to some podunk town out in the middle of farmland so she could get her car fixed. We were there at the dealership forever, playing MASH and the mountain game, gobbling up the complimentary popcorn not so much because we wanted popcorn but because it was free, goddamn motherfucking complimentary and so we gobbled it up like we were living in the end times. Lips salty salty salty, but still ready, ready to press into Giancarlo's later in the day, and maybe even places other than his lips, places lovely, shaved, and tattooed, places under tight jeans. Around five-thirty, I called Giancarlo and he told me that he was going to happy hour at the Rainbow Room and that I should meet him there or that I could call him later and meet up with him. I (which I am now regretting big time) chose not to meet him at the Rainbow Room because I wanted to hang out with Bonnie, to go to an art opening at Wily Street Co-op where they were having free food, free cheese for fuck sakes, which I did not eat like it was the end times, nor did Bonnie, even though we both wanted to, because we were at an art opening and we were worried about the appearance of doing such a thing, of how we had to act classy or some such bullshit. So, Gian gave me his friend's cell phone number that he was going with and told me to call before nine since he had to go to bed early or also some such bullshit. Every thing, every excuse, every extenuating circumstance, every because, every or, every and, every motherfucking thing preventing me from whatever, whatever whatever is, is for all intensive purposes, some such bullshit.

After the art reception, we walked down Willy Street to this really hip bar, Mickey's, with retro art-deco furnishings, got a pitcher of beer, got tipsy, talked about boys and watched serial killers on cable television without sound, the sound being provided by an Irish band practicing at the table next to ours. And then, a little before nine, I got home and flipped out because I am an idiot, a huge one and could not find the little sheet of paper that I carelessy wrote the cell phone number down on. Because of my own idiocy, my messiness, my lack of orginization I was not going to get any action, any dick, any Giancarlo, or any other boys with cool names and even cooler bodies. I found a sheet of paper with a solitary phone number written on it, no name, no nothing to indicate who might be at the other end of this phone number - so I called it, hoping that it would be the one, and it rang forever but no one picked up, only an answering machine indicating that it was Michael's phone. I didn't want to leave a message on this random phone, so I called Giancarlo's explaining to his answering machine (and by extension, to him) what an idiot I am and how I really wanted to see him and blah blah blah. So yeah, why the fuck did I not go to the Rainbow Room with him earlier? God, I was looking forward to this sex so much, let me tell you. This afternoon, I was so goddamn horny when I was taking a shower, and had such fun masturbation but did not come, stopped beforehand because I am insane and wanted to come a lot with Giancarlo, and so yeah, now I am even pissed about that - and goddamn it, I am going to call Giancarlo the second I get home from work tomorrow and tell him that I want to come over and have sex, to fuck, maybe even like we are living in the end times. And goddamn it, shit like this makes me so sad. Bonnie has left to go bone Russ, and this excites me because now I have the room to myself, and as such I can masturbate since I am not getting any fucking sex from Giancarlo tonight, can jack off like I am living the end fucking times.

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