the feeling - peter, bjorn & john

i was too self-occupied to have guests over, but i made a concession for Helen. i should say i would always make time for her since she was one of 3 women that i was insanely sexually attracted to. and that says a lot. i'm not one of those annoying fags that scream, "EW FUCKING SICK!" if mention of a woman and her sexual urges was dropped in a conversation. in fact i enjoyed hurling hard objects at men who did that. where the fuck do you step off talking about erupting streams of cum and plugging up some asshole on the weekend... but no one is allowed to talk about a woman having a gspot orgasm? YEAH, that makes sense.
i'm sure i feel so passionate about this since i have had a few lone broads who have confused the shit out of me. i get stuck thinking, "so do i like them just because they're a pal and i want to get in on that? do i actually feel sexually driven to be with them? is this some sort of latent loathing where i pursue these options to be normal?" fuck normal. that's definitely not it.
i couldn't imagine having to tell everyone that has labelled me a queer that now i'm slipping it into pussy. do you send a post card? do you write out some en masse email to send out with the subject line of "so you'll never believe it..."
all that assimilation stuff aside, i HAVE felt attracted to a select pack of women. nothing ever happened. of course not. i can barely score with dudes let alone luring in some poor woman for sloppy guesses under the blanket.
There was that Swiss exchange student in high school that i jerked off to a lot... but i think that was more from the closeted boy i was fucking publicly declaring his lust for her. so it was wanking by proxy for lack of a better description.
Eye was the most lovely girl i met by chance through friends in university. Japanese, funny and an insanely talented musician. I spent many weekends snuggling in with her in bed as she strummed the ukulele. then the added bonus of me dragging her inner goth out as she broke things off with her tool bag boyfriend. naturally, her friends deemed me the bad influence for the seemingly sudden interest in corsets and black lipstick but it was always there. Eye just never had a chance to let it out. now for sure i was in love with Eye...that much i know. but it was packed up and dumped into the garbage after i had a melt down wondering if i was slowly going straight. after some heated interventions with my best friend the asian dyke, i classified it all as misguided friendship. it was beyond her being a girl, i was in love with a close friend who i wanted to be around all the time. it was silly. just being stupid and nothing would ever happen. i couldn't see thin and quiet Eye settling down with a very loud and hairy faggot who'd never get rid of my bear porn dvd collection. i'm not really the type that you'd be dying to settle down with. it all came to a head when i lived with Eye during my incredibly awful stint at college after university. being depressed about living in a lame city and feeling like your roommate is unavailable just piled it all on and i snapped. i moved out in the middle of the night and left 2 months rent cheques on the desk. i know she could hear me move but she didn't come out. it was heartbreaking for me, but my ego dictates that she didn't actually care... it's not like i heard her sobbing on her bed every time i walked past the door.
After Eye i was on the Cock Train hard and willing. slews [so for me that's like 2 a year] of idiot boyfriends and acceptable sex romps distracted me for a long time. if i had been attractive and/or hated myself more to be a complete slut i would have been happy with two cocks in each hand and 3 in my mouth. there's nothing wrong with a little gay pounding, especially since each go 'round pushed Eye further from my thoughts. no more "what if you'd be down with going straight?" that was getting annoying and there is no better plaster for a broken heart than getting your ass glazed after the bar.
Helen was essentially the female equivalent of myself. she had hippy tendencies, but like myself, actually hated hippies. she could whip my ass at comic book trivia and indulged my late night calls to talk about Batman when i was shouted down on the forums for pushing my fan fic of Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent dating in college. she was butch and wore the same clothes as i did... a secret fetish of mine was borrowing clothing from people i had crushes on and then lending them some of mine. it made me feel delicious and content to zip myself up in one of her sweaters and seeing her walk out my door in a worn tshirt she had been bugging to borrow from me.
a little bit older, a little bit more jaded i didn't fall into the temperamental trap of straight? love. and you say straight with an inflection and tilt your head over to the side. strrrrraight? love? a night of plugging back stout manhattans and watching cartoons on dvds left me with a warm feeling. one that made me think about crawling over the couch arm and snuggle into her shoulder like a koala bear. a very heavy koala bear with a wafting fart cloud of bourbon coming out of my maw.
BUT
i didnt.
i said good night like a gentleman and went home to jerk off furiously thinking about her soft curves rolling around my body. that's always been my test. if i can pop a load thinking about someone then they've obviously made an impact. once in a while a woman shows up in the fantasy but i never actually go through with fucking them. i think about snuggling into their tits and kissing soft shoulders but the story abruptly ends long before anything super sexy materializes. that's what i'm used to. that's what i've come to expect. just a deviant twist to thinking about beefy jewish bears smothering me as they cover me in oil. what? wanking is a private affair, i can't properly explain why i think these things.
Helen had texted me to say she was in the hood with some amazing comic book finds and bad mood notwithstanding i invited her in to splay them out and talk about why each one was amazing. in the skint 20 minutes that we were alone May wound up texting me asking what i was up to. she had infallible radar for when people were talking to Helen to the point that i assumed she was mystical or just stalking her around the city.
May had spent a great deal of energy trying to convince Helen she was a lesbian and resented anyone taking a moments time from her when she could be getting it. it was a wonderful and fucked up circle of friends i ran with. it's not something i'd want to waste too much time analyzing and instead focus on important things like how to avoid their toxic meltdowns for mysterious slights against them.