A couple nights ago, I cuddled with this person I was attracted to. We spent the night spooning each other and rubbing boners against each other. It didn't mean much because it was in a room with other people asleep in it and he had a boyfriend. And yet, it made so happy. I slept so good despite not getting much sleep. My body had forgotten that feeling, forgotten how happy the act of cuddling with someone made it. It's been a really long time since I have spent the night with anyone - the last time was probably in January. I think it was in a snowstorm while I was staying in the hotel I worked at. I invited this boy over who I soon became disinterested in later because that evening I realized really how young in some sense other than his actual age he was, how different we were, how there were things I could not bridge, did not want to. Anyways, we cuddled in a fancy hotel bed with nice sheets while a snowstorm raged outside. It was a beautiful moment. That was seven months ago. I think that was the last time I spent the night asleep next to someone until a couple nights ago.
My body felt this joy again, felt what a great feeling it was to cuddle with someone, to sleep against someone's body that you are attracted to. My body had simply forgotten, or done its best to. That warm press of another body in the night brought it all back though.
And so it was probably not surprising that I found myself messaging Jose as soon as I got back on Sunday from Fire Island. I wanted to experience certain feelings, certain pleasures, joys. I asked him if he wanted to see Boyhood with me this week. He said he did. And then when I suggested Tuesday, he didn't respond. And then today, Tuesday, when I messaged him again, he didn't respond again.
I already had the feeling that he wasn't into me, however today still made me sad to realize that what I thought might be the case was definitely the case, that this cute guy I liked wasn't interested. I mean, I just want to cuddle with someone and to talk to them as we drift off to sleep. And so then, despite me being in my thirties now, what one might consider an adult, someone that should be above such lines of thinking, I thought to myself (because I am human) "Why doesn't he like me?" I would say this in my head in a comical Valley Girl voice to mock the question, to mock my asking it. Still, though, I was asking it.
I am not sure what the answer is, but I thought about it a lot. And it really has nothing to do with him because he's just some guy I barely even knew, just some really cute guy that I had a big crush on. Which surely is one of the main problems, if not the only one here, the cause of any others - that I liked him too much, that I was thirsty. It shows. I am too hungry, too desperate - too thirsty for love. It's been a long time and I want things too badly now. I walked in the rain tonight because the streets were more empty than they otherwise would have been and everyone was hurrying to escape the rain. The air was impossibly thick. It was warm and the rain just slightly less so. I walked slowly to take in this physical sensation of the air and the rain, to indulge in it. When it rains hard and I am sheltered by my umbrella from other people, I like to sing out loud. And so I did so to the Prince songs I was listening to on my headphones. Buildings, the tall ones further downtown, were blurred out slightly by the rain, their lights though still giving some hint of not only their own shape, but also that of the rain and the air it passed through.
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