My adult life has never been normal or boring. I think it's safe to say that after sharing a few select escapades with you guys. Well, you know, if you've made it this far. I thank you for being that interested in anything I have to say, really.
I'm not sure why you're still curious in a dog like me or my sordid tales, but it's more comforting than I would have thought. I hesitantly started down this long, winding road of life's experiences and sharing them with you not knowing where it would go. I guess part of it is the loneliness I feel. It's especially crushing when I'm in a room full of strangers or even a bedroom with one, or more, lover(s). I still have this empty place in my heart of desires after all the festivities are over. And yet, telling my most scandalous stories to you all, almost does seems cathartic to me.
It's better than the good feelings I had started to have again after another period of time talking to Jade. There were some things that I finally told to her that needed to be said last time but weren't because of my lack of testicular fortitude. It still wasn't the most likely of relationships to last, or even romantically start really. But I had begun to believe if I just persisted with being in her life even on a peripheral orbit, things would work themselves out. I know it sounds a bit desperate. I'm not afraid of being rejected. It's the being made to think someone wants me when in reality, that might not be the case... That is the bitch to deal with mentally. But even in my hawt mess life, I would eventually find out how wrong I was. Better to be wrong though then to be a person's toy but that's a later tale.
I was fine with a rare walk in the park with her. The occasional horseplay, ending with me apologizing profusely because I slapped her ass, was a sight. Clad in yoga pants mind you, as hard as I could. Only to realize that might make getting laid by the live-in boyfriend a little difficult later on that night if a big hand shaped bruise materialized that wasn't his. Or even cutting the gym prayers to the gods of metal a little short to go get ice cream and fight over her not paying for it all the while laughing like horny teenagers. If nothing else, I thought I had at least earned the title of friend from her. But just because you go shopping at a big box warehouse together, doesn't necessarily mean the way you feel about someone else will always, or at all, be reciprocated. Board games played at the local nerd hotspot will forever be a draw in terms of wins and losses. That part is just for me, so moving on...
However, when you meet that friend's other friend(s) you want to believe you're now included into that typically small circle of cherished people. Jen was one of those people in her life. Closer to my age, she was a cool enough person, but she had her own demons to deal with just like everyone else. Meeting the two of them at the hospital because they worked together most shifts and just bullshiting about life was a nice change of pace the few times it happened. She wasn't quite my type, which made it easier to just be a flirt with no real consequences. But they were fun enough to tease or gang up on, and maybe even bring a fufu drink to. For me that was enough to be "friends".
When you start to reminisce about friends though, that's when you start down one path and usually, completely, end up on a different string of reality altogether. Case in point, I snapped back to the current timeline. It started this foray into my wasteland of a mind and repressed emotional damage. I was sitting in my studio just going over again what had happened at the horse farm with Angel.
After a few weeks went by I had some of the photos from that shoot printed out. And I have to say, they were sexy, alluring, and everything else I was hoping they would be. The problem was they were in front of me lying on the desk but Angel was missing in action. All I could do was let her handle her own affairs however she saw fit. It's by far not intentional, but I really do seem to lose the majority of the women around me shortly after a night or less of intimacy. Luckily I'm too blind to see those huge red flags flapping in a category five hurricane behind me. Ignorance is bliss after all, right?
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It was about then that I got a text from a little bird that worked at a local spot I'd stop into a few times a week to get food or something to drink, Caribbean Smoothie. Layla was the day manger and service in many ways was job number one with her. In a smoothie shop full of teenagers, early twenty somethings, and the old fart that owned the place, she was the one expected to keep the ship from crashing. I guess being in the middle of all of them, just keeping her sanity was impressive.
But for me, the most outstanding thing at least in the beginning was the fact she was usually the first, and mostly only one, to get the majority of my dated references or bad dad jokes. As time went on, we would bullshit about life until my order was ready, and I'd leave until the next time my craving for a chicken quesadilla, not cut, struck. One time though, I noticed her giving a hug to another fellow in the lobby on an obviously bad day and without really caring if it went anywhere, I said, "Well I wanna hug too then!" And her response was, "Okay."
And a hug is exactly what I got. Only thing was, I had really never noticed her body with the baggy shirt and always running around filling orders and trying to keep the shop from burning to the ground. For her shorter size, the breasts she made sure to squeeze into my attention on that embrace were quite a surprise. A short brunette, with deep brown eyes, a sassy attitude, as well as the other endowments she was blessed with made it worth a bit more to chase after her. Just to keep my game in top form mind you. A buddy of mine remarked to me after I treated him to lunch there one day, she had lips that looked like they could make a man weak. I remember telling him he needed to get laid more often.
Over a few years of getting to know each other, things progressed to the point where spicy texts got sent back and forth with photos to enhance the experience for all parties involved. Big issues in life or just bitching about every day things got bounced off of each other on a regular basis. She eventually mentioned in our talks certain frustrations that came along with the guy she was seeing. He was a great guy, but... well, he had gotten a nickname that in this case that wasn't a flattering thing. He was known as Flash between the two of us. As the name might hint at, he was fast in all the wrong ways. It was taking the joy out of her sex life and she was beginning to become a little desperate for a good old fashion, I'll be honest here, she wanted to be, "fucked until she couldn't remember her own name just once."
I, being the good friend that I am, said I could handle that request amazing well, but she needed to be sure she really craved what she was asking for. Layla responded like a champ with that little spunky ass of hers and just replied with, "Don't threaten me with a good time." Seeing as how I love a challenge, I took this to be a great step in the right direction.
