|"I know what Boys Like (Boys like me)"
||[Feb. 1st, 2009|10:09 pm]
Over the moon/ I want to feel like I’m twelve hours old at the early hours of noon…
I feel so uncomfortable turning 22. It seems that on Groundhog’s Day, I’m going to be past my prime, you know? Granted, I should be experimenting with chemicals, drugs, new sex positions, adapting mantras and traveling the world—but instead; I’m looking to stay another year in Buffalo. It feel like I’m going nowhere and somewhat stuck… like I’m destined to be a failure. Besides, it just feels like another day… not my birthday. I read through some friend’s journals today, which left me kind of depressed. It’s like, cheer up, already!
But it wasn’t all that bad. I called Vanessa, but she was probably very cold or depressed because of the weather to even pick up the phone, nonetheless go out, so I understand. So, I went out last night (Saturday) with Fannie and we traveled to Dustin’s via bus. We met Billie and her male bisexual best friend forever, Chris. Billie is a stellar girl, very rocker-Goth chick meets nerd-zilla, died black hair and a nice smile. She looks like she compliments Dustin… only she’s a little withdrawn, wanting to do all these things with him, but still fresh from her 9 year relationship. Chris is different: Kind of sheltered, but flowing with immense sexual energy that obliterates his nerdy grunge-metal twink frame. We got together and chilled for a while before going out. Mark, Dustin’s roommate wasn’t out with his new girlfriend somewhere in Canada, so it was an uneven five people. We went to Marcella’s and danced a lot. Fannie and I danced for about an hour and a half before going to look for Dustin and Billie. Fannie kind of bored me, because she had so much on her mind and dancing wasn’t really expected. Chris was somewhere, but Dustin found him. Chris danced with Fannie and I, but he was hip-retarded. He is more interested in me than Fannie and since she’s so “whatever,” so, he grabs me, puts his arms around my neck, I put my hands around his waist, and we are faces are only half and inch from each other. I take control of his hips. So, I go behind him and before you know it, his ass is pressed against my waist and we’re dancing very suggestively. He puts leans back, and his arms feel on my hips and waist and cup my butt. I put my hand under his shirt and trace my hands down his thighs and knees. I tired him out and he needed a rest. I dance with Fannie a little more and then she goes and sits. So there I am, dancing alone on the stage next to Dustin and Billie like those old guys looking for trade. Then, he gets up and again and comes to me and starts dancing again. He gets behind me and my inner-freak came out. It was like we were basically having sex with out the condom! I bent over and grinded my ass on his pelvis and then got up and leaned back and take his baseball cap and but it on. He was like water in my hands! We were so close to making out; it was too almost too close. Every time we got close, I would laugh it off or he’d smile. I’ve got to admit: since coming to Buffalo, I fell into this black power epoch, but he has these very comforting and tranquil blue eyes that made me see where Fausto was coming from. And I’m not really a fan of blue eyes at all.
When we called it a night, we went back to Dustin’s and spent the night. We watched “Heavy Metal” and I watched Fannie and Chris fall asleep on the couch as I made tea. I fell asleep on Mark’s futon after the final credits. I woke shortly to find that Chris found himself on the futon beside me. Eventually I woke the next afternoon and we chilled before going to Dunkin Donuts and then catching the bus. I got a few emails from Jay when I got back and saw that Tee and he have been talking quite a bit. It’s not that I’m jealous (and I assure you I’m not) but why has Jordan taken more initiative to talk to Tee than he did the chances to take the initiative to talk with me while we dated? See what I mean? Also, among the many friends’ journals that I read, why is Tee wallowing in self-pity and shame for not calling me to wish me a happy birthday, when all he has to do is grow balls and call me? But he doesn’t have shame to talk about me to my ex? Hmmm… it’s interesting, saying goodbye to 21.
Question of the day: “For the most part, I’m over Jordan, but it’s a fresh break-up. Am I wrong for going out to a club, dancing heavily on total strangers (even when it may appear I’m leading them on)?”