Monday, April 30, 2012
I was a little drunk, meeting up with D. And pissed off at the stories I have heard. But I'll admit, I think I wanted to stir shit up. Perhaps just my own shit. I've been bored lately, frustrated with my lack of true connection to people. Conversations lacking the depth I want, my skin and soul untouched for so long. And, god, I cannot stand the thought of just sleeping with someone, it's so unsatisfying. I need any man I fuck to know some things about me. A) I'm somewhat a masochist B) I'm smart, emotional, and my head's all full of shit. Anyway, D doesn't really know any of this shit, though I know he was stirring the pot himself, one way or another. But the point is, is that at one point I had some things to say to him, and they were coupled with me slapping him in the face a few times. I was baiting, exactly how I know is not the right way to go about these things (but it can be so fun), and of course he rose to it. One crack across the face and I think I felt more free in that moment than I have in a long time. I laughed and walked away, satisfied in some way with the game I had played. There's a crosswalk we were waiting for and I stop there long enough to rub my cheek and grumble an "ow!" towards him and he laughed. Good lord, there's not much better than a Sadist's laugh at my pain.