December 8, 2009

A dark-haired, blue-eyed stripper with a body tuned and tanned to perfection, wearing only a pair of deceivingly innocent white briefs, a flawlessly angelic smile and sienna cowboy boots and I took turns taking body shots off each other as we lied on the kitchen counter. As he held a bottle of rum in one hand, he teased my body with the sensuality at his spare fingertips. He moved my mass-produced, slightly sacrilegious black rosary necklace away, and slowly sipped the dark alcohol from my navel, mopping up every last drop with his powerfully erotic tongue. Nathan wanted this to be a great party. And it was, it really was.

Blackout, baby, blackout.

December 7, 2009

But I remember hating the man who sat across from me breathing heavily through his nose and etching pen marks into a paper that would forever etch into my life.

I remember hating him every time he pushed his glasses up on his nose as he looked down at that paper that would forever place a blemish on my life.

And in our world, blemishes ruin evenings, ruin lives, ruin hopes of getting fucked.

December 6, 2009

Sandra ran to me and hugged me like this would be the last time she ever would.

And with this queen’s history, it just might have been.

Sandra had been there when I was medically rushed to the hospital. Sandra had seen me at my very worst, my very rock bottom. This was beginning to be old news for her. And for everyone.

December 3, 2009

Like the bird’s carcass below me, my life was decaying. I was already dead.

Rewind.

December 2, 2009

The salty smell of her tears sliding down her face, the sound of her snorts to keep the snot inside her nose and the near-crushing pressure from her unrelenting hug consumed me in that lobby.

It was the only hug from her I ever wanted to just stop. I wanted her to stop crying. I wanted her to not have to hug me. I wanted to just erase this moment.

I wanted to black it out.

December 1, 2009

 I asked her where I was. I asked her how I got here. I asked her what happened.

I asked her if I was going to die.

This kid might be my best friend.
And, yes, we fit inside the same jacket.

This kid might be my best friend.

And, yes, we fit inside the same jacket.

November 30, 2009

Not even the horniest, most desperate queen is going to want to fuck a twink this tweaked-out.

There are exceptions to every rule.

November 29, 2009

And it was definitely this same arrogance that led me on my knees with Nathan.

November 28, 2009
Being a housewive

jawncharles:

I will: cook for you after a long day at work, give you the best neck massage when you’re stressed, make you mix cds that you can listen to when we’re apart so you don’t forget about me, and leave you little notes around the house to remind you how amazing you are.

You will: stay in and cuddle and watch shitty movies with me on cold nights, hold my hand and keep me company when we are running mindless errands around town, organize a surprise birthday party for me, won’t mind having three dogs that we can walk together in the middle of the night, and kiss my neck if you need to wake me up.

I never, ever reblog anything, but anyone who knows me knows this is 100 percent completely Plan A.