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Ambrosia…I think not.
I'll never forget the rancid SOUR stench of his work-out clothes hanging from the shower bar. "My God!," I thought…what could produce such an odor?
Of course, I tried not to let it matter. After all, I loved him (the dickhead).
After thoughtfully brushing the cigarette reek from my mouth before bed, I crawled under the sheets to be with the one who'd made today worth living. He's so fucking hot. I love the way the hair on his chest feels. Jeez he's hot…I mean warm…Could he have put MORE blankets on this bed?! God! I'm fuckin' roasting! What kind of asshole puts quilts on a bed in August?
So I throw the ten tons of family heirloom fabric to HIS side and breathe in the pleasure of the air propelled by the swiveling fan at the foot of the bed.
Didn't we have an awesome day? I loved it when he showed me how the seat on my bike should be high enough to allow my knees to bend just-so when propelling forward. We had such a great ride. I can't believe it smells like fall already. The crickets outside the window were like sleepy metronomes that made his apartment a haven from my own. I snuggled up to him, turned to face him to fall into slumber.
Of course the fucker was already asleep! Goddammit, why does everyone else get to fall asleep before me!? I swear this happens every freakin' time! Oh, and here comes the breath. God! Can't you have some Altoids or something before bed? Jeez…I'm the one who smokes, and I'm sorry, your breath…
I roll over, then take off my shirt, I don't know why I sleep with one on anyway. He keeps complaining that "boys are supposed to sleep naked." A rush of cool air calms me. I turn away from him, lay down with only the sheet covering my calves and FINALLY feel relaxed. That's better. That's better. My eyes begin to droop, then close.
Jolted from what was about to real sleep, I hear it again. Moan and pathetic quasai groans from him. Jeez, he's having another fuckin' sex dream. God I hate that! And now I won't be able to sleep. He probably is awake and doing it to see what reaction he gets, the dickhead. Man, I wish I had those kind of dreams! Of course, he probably has them because he thinks we don't have enough sex. God! Does everything have to be about his dick?!
So I get up out of bed, go to the bathroom, am reminded rudely of the sweaty stench and gag down a few gulps of water direct from the faucet like I always do. I stumble back to the room and somehow, the fan sound so much more appealing than it did a moment before. The droning white-noise has an immediate effect and I swear, the room is like ten degrees cooler than the bathroom was. I gently get into bed (so I don't disturb dickhead) and cover my goose flesh skin with just the sheet. I drifted into a relaxed mode.
What a wonderful day I had. I can't believe we found each other last month. We are so perfect together. Bike riding in the sun and beer drinking 'til bed. This summer's the best ever.
Date Written: July 28, 2004
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