Hickey Horror

Well, I had an interesting weekend.

I hope you had a good one.

literarybulimia@gmail.com

New Guys, Old Ways

I'm afraid I may be slipping back to my old ways. See, I've been very, very, very careful the past year or so to the point of paranoia. But now that I've finished school and have some spare time after work, I find myself getting bored a lot. But more than boredom, I think it's about time I get over the paranoia and carefully get back in the circuit.

I've going back to the gym for past three weeks now, which is great, but it's also partly because I'd like to be more marketable, so to speak. I was looking really unhealthy about two months ago.

Anyway, I'm back in the game. I think. I want to go on dates and hang out but I haven't really met anyone that I want to be seeing regularly. Well, until last week.

The moment I first saw his profile (online, but of course), I knew there was something. I don't know. I just felt good about him. It wasn't until about a week later that we finally met. It was last Friday night. He looks exactly the same in person as he does in pictures--if not better. He's gentle, smart and nice so when he asked me for the second time that night to sleep over, I just couldn't say no. It was, I think, the happiest I've been, in an intimate way, in a seriously long time. It's that kind of intimacy that makes you dream, that gives you foresight. He snored like crazy, rendering me sleepless. Still, I woke that morning, on his shoulder, with a smile on my face, which lasted throughout that day.

Two nights later, I was back in his place. He was sick but it didn't matter. I just really wanted to see him, which pretty much meant I was fucked and not exactly in the way that I prefer. I was falling too fast, too soon. This time, he fell asleep on my shoulder. With his head next to mine, I endured another night of his heavy snoring. I was a zombie at work the following day.

It has been four days since we last saw each other and I'm almost 100% certain now that everything wasn't I was hoping it to be. I mean, if he was looking for something more worthwhile with me, I'd be there, in his arms and not here, pounding on my keyboard.

Ah, it's good/awful to be back.

literarybulimia@gmail.com