explain to me

why i love reading your drunk texts and the way you type hella letters at the end of my name


why do i want you to be hung up on me when i’m the one who ended our fling.

why do i check if you’ve viewed my story.

why i swipe on these stupid dating apps for another smiling face with cute eye wrinkles that are just like yours but better. because i wanted to date someone better (than you) and older (than you) and had their shit together (more than you)

yet here i am looking for your face, missing your touch, yearning for you to cry for the loss of me again.

explain to me why i want you to hurt. why i enjoy seeing the desperation in your eyes every time i say goodbye. why i love reading your drunk texts and the way you type hella letters at the end of my name to make it clear to me that you’re calling out to me oh-so-earnestly with those small, extended vowels. that by the drop of alcohol the memory of me is the only thing that ripples thru your mind.

sometimes you send my name and nothing else, and that’s the shit that makes my day: knowing that i have the power to pick you up on a whim and drop you at the swipe of my fingertip. boy, i never thought i’d love dismissing you more than i liked kissing you. and yet,

what does that say about me?

To the Guy Who Gave Me the Best 24 Hours of My Life:

Thank you for treating me like the baddest princess in the whole world.

It sounds cheesy, I know. And trust me, I wasn’t looking for anyone at my first rave, but when you asked me to dance, I was so happy to be found by you. Even though I at first was timid, as soon as you stood behind me and wrapped me in your arms, things felt right. It was you, me, and the music of the night.

Those songs that played as we danced for hours will forever glow with your warmth and pleasure. We swayed in sync with the beats of the bass and of our tweaked out hearts. I don’t think anything has ever felt so nice as you interlacing your fingers with mine. I loved when we danced just as much as swaying and being held by you. How did you make me feel so sexy and so small at the same time?

Is this just the drugs or do we have real chemistry?

My heart tells me you’re something special because we really vibed, not just using each other for physical comfort. To say there was an emotional connection might be too much, but what I do know is you gave me such tender attention, a kind I’ve never received before. There was something glowing in your eyes, electric in your hands. Even as we were leaving the arena, you asked me about my studies, interests, and goals, and to speak as humans topped off my night by making the connection personal in addition to physical. And then you opened up about yourself, your emotions, and your family, and maybe that was the drugs talking too, but that all felt so real. I know I loved every minute I spent with you, but I’m not sure if I like you as you or if I like the drugged out version of us.

Where does the serotonin end and the emotions really begin?

You texted me 3 hours after we said goodnight asking me out to breakfast. How could I say no when I wanted to see you so badly? You picked me up in your car wearing a good outfit and smelling even better. After treating me to breakfast, you took up my hand again and again and led me to your San Diego. I had been to San Diego with my friends before, but this city looked brand new with you. Never did the ocean smell so mysterious nor the red lights feel so long. We arrived at a viewpoint overlooking the city, but all I wanted to look at was you, and I think the feeling was mutual as you drew me in with your eyes and parted lips. I’ve never felt so hypnotized by someone’s eyes before.

You saw through my shyness straight to my desires and didn’t hesitate in giving me the treatment I deserved. You choked me tighter, spanked me harder, and fucked me rougher than I’ve ever been before yet everything felt so natural. It’s like I came to San Diego just to spend those moments with you. Your body, skin, and gaze were intoxicating and I don’t think anyone will be able to top that sex for awhile. I remember saying to you in the middle of everything, “You’re a trip.” and it’s entirely true. From the initial point of contact, to the rising actions, to the steady build and momentous climax, I could not have imagined a better day spent.

At the end, when you dropped me off, you gave me that same look of tenderness and pulled me in for a kiss. That was goodbye, but still nothing felt like finite. Each kiss led into the next one, into the next word and smile, into my departure. You’re so skilled in flowing. I love that about you, that you feel the vibe and chase after it with full confidence. I think that’s why I said yes to everything you suggested. I’m usually a leader, but damn, you made me want to follow you almost anywhere. As you overtook me with your agile fingers and seductive words, I felt myself surrender to you, a total stranger who felt completely like a home I’d never known before. Never once was I scared with you. Whatever I said or asked felt valued, safe, and cute. Where I didn’t know, you knew, and where I slowed, you paced. Everything that I could’ve wanted to happen this weekend did, and it’s mostly because of you. From letting me wear your button-up after the show, to buying me breakfast the next morning, and texting me after I get back to reality, everything I wanted was satisfied, and that’s such a rare occurrence. You were tender at the rave, smooth with your dancing, smart with your words, polite at breakfast, dominant in sex, and so perfectly dirty in your treatment of the most special babygirl. Somehow, you satisfied all my needs with style and swiftness. Needs I didn’t all know I had.

Ah, I would drive four hours down to San Diego just for the sex alone. And be willing to pay $150 again to relieve LED. But there’s no amount I could ever put on the experiences you gave me in our short time together. As an English major, I fell in love with J.K. Rowling’s quote that “words… are the most inexhaustible source of magic we have” but now I not so convinced. You have me enchanted, and maybe it’s only for now, or maybe a few days, but I know this crazy thing we have and the things you made and still make me feel can’t be anything other than magic. Call me naive, call me stupid, call me high. You made my heart feel like it’s on fire, and if that’s not magic then I don’t know what the hell is.

I never had an outline of the “perfect day” but now if someone asked me what one looked like, you can bet your ass I’d say it was the 24 hours between Saturday, May 26 and Sunday, May 27, 2018.

My perfect day was you.

i feel most beautiful when…

my hair has just finished air drying and my skin has cooled off. my eyes are free from powders and pencils and my brows arch naturally, like the slopes of my back and hips.

i wake up in the morning by the light of the sun. i can’t see clearly without my contacts but i know the sun feels warm, sexy, and loving as it melts down my nose and through my veins.

i’m in a sweatshirt and shorts that fit my ass *just right*.

i feel most beautiful in all the moments when i’m not looking in a mirror. for feeling beautiful has nothing to do with looking. it isn’t something you search for; it’s something you let rush through your body and sex your soul.

that is loving yourself.

Paradise? Lost

as you hold his hand, i’m hurt but not jealous. i genuinely hope you’re happy to heal the pain of losing me. because i lost you as a friend and him as a possible love interest.

as you hold on to his hand, know that you let go of me as soon as you interlaced your fingers with his. it’s life. it’s not okay, and i’m not okay.

I’m better than ever.

do you like him?

it was a simple question–

i just wanted honesty, but you lied. i gave you a chance just like i did so many times before. like when i asked you “well do you like him?” before you had sex with our friend’s recent ex-boy. like when i said “yeah, i’ll be sober with you! we’ll have fun still!” before you smiled at me, turned around and then downed 2 shots of cheap vodka. like when i told you to be less sarcastic and bratty in your comebacks because it was low-key rude to everyone, before i dished it back to you, and you asked why i was “so mean to you”.

yes, tell me about how you’re the victim in all these situations you have crafted for yourself.

granted, it is not all your fault. the guy was a predatory asshole who took advantage of both of your drunkenness. that doesn’t make kissing him okay. yes, we were at a party with other drunk people when you took the shots of vodka. but you said you weren’t going to do something and did it anyways.

you’re making it hard for me to trust you, and there’s no way YOU’re the victim in that.

so when i asked you last week, “do you like him?” about the guy i like, and you straight to my face told me no but 3 days later told someone else yes, how am i supposed to react? happy??

because im not happy. i’m hurt.