It’s just a something, a something where every time I see him, no matter what mood I’m in, I smile. I’m not in love with him, I’m not in love with anyone. I want to be asexual, aromatic, without all of those silly feelings people fawn over the idea of. I’m not free of them, of course, I’m a born romantic with a probably too giving heart which hampers me, but I don’t want to love Clyde. He’s homosexual anyway, so that would be silly; I certainly wouldn’t ever try to ‘change him’ like some stupid faghags do.

But he’s just so contagiously lovely. Not nice, everyone calls him nice, that’s not it. But he does little things that make you smile or laugh and even when he doesn’t do them, I smile. Today he brought me a heart-shaped chocolate randomly, even though where I was happened to be slightly out of his way at work and he was saw by another coworker.

A different time I was giving him a hard time for taking some supplies, playfully of course, and he scoffed with me and we laughed and he said “love you” in the sweetest way. We usually say “I love you,” of course, but this was sickly, poisonously sweet. Saccharine. I said ditto, I’m not mushy enough to even try that shit.

But how could you not fall in love with such a handsome, playful man who is obviously so captivating that you find yourself waiting for him just to say goodbye, or following him around? I just plod after him like some sort of lost puppy and I tell myself I’m not in love.

I have no romantic feelings for him, maybe that’s the way of putting it, for I certainly am in love with him in some way.

Or more specifically my mouth.

My friend, who I will from now on refer to as Victor, is the person I recently mentioned as someone I would be willing to prostitute myself to.

I am not at all attracted to Victor. if anything I am guilt ridden with having any sexual thought with him. I cheated on my first boyfriend with him and that kind of betrayal leaves a mark of some kind. But he’s the most sexual person I know and the most willing to pay for sex. And he did. It took me like two and a half hours to blow him off though, which is unfortunate.

But I made 20 extra bucks and no longer owe him money, which is nice. I’m going to probably make more money, too.

He’s been secretly in love with pawning after me for awhile and it’s interesting to see this all unfold. I think he lost respect for me, especially since I was totally drunk throughout the whole ordeal.

I had forgotten what he likes.

Now I remember, his likes are similar to my first boyfriend’s (the one I cheated on him with).

The funny thing is that I came to his house, I drank his vodka, I sucked him off, and I never stopped texting Clyde. Clyde would text and I would stop what I was doing and respond to him. Probably what made it take so long but I don’t care, I still made way more than my day job.

I recently have hit the point in my life when I don’t have enough money, even with a beyond full time job and not paying rent, where I feel like I have to sell my body for money.

For now, I’ll probably just sell it to a friend that has been into me for years. He’s likely to pay, no problem, and I feel safe enough in that situation. I don’t plan on ever selling myself on the street or anything, though I wouldn’t mind being a fake girlfriend for someone semi long term.

This morning I fucked my ex and it was great. I know that having sex with some one I’m not attracted to won’t be at lal the same, so I’m mentally preparing myself for that.

I asked Clyde what he thought about price and he gave me some pretty detailed thoughts, which I found interesting. I want to know about all his life experiences, where he learns things. I want to know his past.

But I’m also on my on course, where I’m doing things strange and different myself. Life is good, even if money is scarce.

721 notes #this is my life #interests #serial killers

10 notes #cigarettes #rainbow #colorful

    Drinking is bad for you.
    There is only one person I drink with, really. He’s an older gay man who I work with. I didn’t used to drink nearly at all, ever. At first I would go with the bars with him and get non-alcoholic drinks with him, but somehow it turned into me getting drunk with him all the time. Somehow…
    But as someone who’s been raped twice, as someone who grew up abused by drunk people, as someone with abandonment issues, as someone with trust issues - I had to see him entirely plastered. I had to see what kind of fundamental person he was. Better earlier than get too attached to this life. So I said so, that I wanted to see him lose control. He kind of laughed it off and said there’s only one way to achieve that, which was hopping through a series of Chinese restaurants. The next day, we got off of work early and he cancelled his plans and we did just that.
    Now, this man is gay, in the fact that he identifies as such, but I don’t believe in phrases like ‘gay’ or ‘straight’ being absolute truths. There’s always middle room, and he was married when he was younger and describes it as having been in love.
    So later through the night, we made out a lot. I recall the whole thing, and he doesn’t, but that’s fine. I don’t really feel the need to talk about making out in a van with him, it’s really not a big deal. I find him semi-attractive and obviously the same is for me. But I’m going to say right now that I’m not in love with this man, at least not in a way I recognize. I don’t pine for him to fall in love with me or to change him or anything, I just like to be around him. He’s the first friend I’ve ever really made without the help of any outside human being, and that is fantastic to me.
    I’m a young 20’s white pansexual female.
    He is a early 50’s mixed-race gay male.
    So I took him home, seeing as I somehow managed with no real drinking history to be the more sober of us, and took him into his RV. He wouldn’t let me into his room, he suddenly got very serious. And I laughed and said “What, are you a serial killer or something? That’s fine.”
    I never got a real answer and was kindly booted out of the RV.
    The next day I asked “You’re not really a serial killer, are you?”
    His answer was: “No, not really.”