I fucked a somewhat gross escort yesterday. It was clinical and routine . . . BJ, missionary, doggy, orgasm. I saw her about two years ago and she was decently attractive then, but there’s been weight gain since then and the smoking caused noticeable lines and wrinkles on her face. The makeup only made the wrinkles look deeper. Her neck smelled like cigarettes.
I was disappointed but not ashamed afterward. The lack of intimacy in my life was causing concern. A prolonged absence of touch and body-to-body pleasure was making me feel too alone. I don’t want sex to become something that I have to wonder what it’s like. I immediately changed my sheets after she left, though. And then I drank 8 beers and watched a Kings of Leon concert on YouTube.
I would like to think there is more to a Saturday than sleeping ’til 1PM, drinking four cups of joe, book journaling, eating a grill cheese sandwich and then masturbating. But since that’s all I’ve done today, I pretty much think that’s all there is. I doubt I’ll even speak to one person today, only if the cashier makes small talk with me when I go to buy a sixer later today. Even then it will be awkward and forced. I’ll drink the beer and watch a Strokes concert on YouTube, only wishing I was cool like them with disposable money to burn.
Lina sent me a text as soon her plane landed in San Francisco, just to let me know she landed safely. It gave me a brief mental boost, like a rush of sugar to a diabetic. I was turned-on and a little flattered because you always see people on a plane pick up their phones as soon as the plane lands, hurriedly texting the people in their lives that are at the top of their minds. I was at the top of Lina’s, but I wondered why her husband wasn’t.