only you and whoever has listened to your music will understand the title of this piece and that’s on purpose.
i have a lot to say about our little interaction on easter at the golf course in the middle of austin, but will keep it brief for now.
first off – what the fuck?
second – have you considered not having that stupid smirk on your face?
i asked why you even picked me up in the first place and can’t totally remember what you said because it made no sense. nothing about what happened there made any sense. other than we are obviously not compatible, which became abundantly clear, and fast.
spoiler alert – it’s a turn on. horrible, right?
you were so upset and i was getting pissed but i was also distracted by the bulge in your pants. your penis looked big. i’d been wondering.
and i know, that’s not totally appropriate to say here but i think it’s funny. us, arguing about nothing while i anxiously stare at your dick, sort of turned on by your anger and the idea you might be hung. i’m really like that lately… wet with a mouth full of spit.
i think you might think it’s funny too. i’ll tell you about it if we ever talk again, which i think we might. it’s not unlike a sad, bad man such as yourself to throw a fit and eventually come back around. this act isn’t new. i’ve seen it a hundred times before.
my friends were excited for me when i told them i was going to meet up with a musician i met in marfa back in january. partly, because you’re not my ex. too, because i said nice things about you. told them i like your music, your forced mystery. the way you talk through your teeth with your jaw clenched. that stupid fucking smirk on your face. the way i felt like you probably have a big dick. that we met in marfa – people love marfa!
this is all to say, they were pretty disappointed and somewhat alarmed when i told them what happened last sunday. we all kinda laughed at how absurd it was. how predictable it was. the flags were all there, waving around, slapping me in the face. but! i really didn’t think you’d take it that far. i figured you’d be, like, chill or something.
“are we going to get along?” you turned to me and asked when we pulled in, under the shade of a tree, people swinging their clubs this way and that off in the distance.
“you know, i’m not sure,” i said.
i’d been considering it in the days leading up to us getting together. it wasn’t the first time you’d asked me the question. it was on your mind and you’d successfully projected your nervousness onto me.
“interesting, because you seem so certain of everything else,” you said.
“i am,” i said.
things were going downhill fast.
“well, i have a beginners mind,” you said.
i wasn’t expecting that. you stumped me for a second. i thought back to you talking about buddhism and me not taking you seriously. i didn’t know what to say, so i briefly did what my therapist calls “fawning.”
“would you prefer i have a beginners mind?” i asked, trying to disarm you.
i don’t completely remember what you said in response, but it certainly was not validating.
it was obvious we’d passed any point of understanding and entered into some sort of sultry, southern, cigarette-smoke-doused hell that, personally, i think you were dying to bring me to.
let’s go baby, i said to god above. take me all the way!
Words 