me say me want donny
today i told donny how badly i wanted him.
"i want you so bad." mm, not told, really, but blurted out.
i had only recently found out he was monogamous. ...something like:
"donny monogamous?"
"why, yes, tracey, when i am in a relationship i am monogamous. why do you ask?"
"tracey like donny. wish to want date donny. but no happen. oh well."
"well, i'm flattered, tracey. that's very sweet, but our lifestyles in that arena simply don't mesh, darling," he smiles, hands me a banana, and pats me on the head.
"true. uugh, head hurt from lust for donny. brain not work full capacity..."
"yes, yes, now just eat your banana."
"...but tracey want donny bad!" that's when i threw the banana at him and started screaming. and as i swung from the handrails of the route 71 bus, even when the bus driver and four commuters pried me from donny's sobbing and wincing body...i felt relief.
yeah, so the whole "tracey want donny bad" thing, it was all my repressed hopes and fantasies bubbling up and spilling uncontrollably out of me. it was so satisfying. the climax had been the moment i found donny simply wasn't a viable option for dating and/or sex. these bursts of subsequent inappropriate language could be equated to the moments immediately following the initiation of the orgasm...the part where you might still be chemically drugged enough to say "i love you" to a stranger before putting your pants back on and sliding out the door. (i was, indeed, emotionally pantless.)
hopefully the comment was just icing on the flattery cake.
regardless, what a relief. the silent crush can be romantic and cute, but knowing this route is closed puts me at ease. now i can quit my horrible objectification of the damn hot fox... :) and stop being curious, which is the primary. i'm pleased to be friends, or even less, and now, without the distraction.
he was gracious. which is pleasant, because though my sometimes brutally straightforward methods are wonderfully healthy for me, i fear they sometimes shock and alienate those who prefer a veil (curtain, or iron maiden).
"i want you so bad." mm, not told, really, but blurted out.
i had only recently found out he was monogamous. ...something like:
"donny monogamous?"
"why, yes, tracey, when i am in a relationship i am monogamous. why do you ask?"
"tracey like donny. wish to want date donny. but no happen. oh well."
"well, i'm flattered, tracey. that's very sweet, but our lifestyles in that arena simply don't mesh, darling," he smiles, hands me a banana, and pats me on the head.
"true. uugh, head hurt from lust for donny. brain not work full capacity..."
"yes, yes, now just eat your banana."
"...but tracey want donny bad!" that's when i threw the banana at him and started screaming. and as i swung from the handrails of the route 71 bus, even when the bus driver and four commuters pried me from donny's sobbing and wincing body...i felt relief.
yeah, so the whole "tracey want donny bad" thing, it was all my repressed hopes and fantasies bubbling up and spilling uncontrollably out of me. it was so satisfying. the climax had been the moment i found donny simply wasn't a viable option for dating and/or sex. these bursts of subsequent inappropriate language could be equated to the moments immediately following the initiation of the orgasm...the part where you might still be chemically drugged enough to say "i love you" to a stranger before putting your pants back on and sliding out the door. (i was, indeed, emotionally pantless.)
hopefully the comment was just icing on the flattery cake.
regardless, what a relief. the silent crush can be romantic and cute, but knowing this route is closed puts me at ease. now i can quit my horrible objectification of the damn hot fox... :) and stop being curious, which is the primary. i'm pleased to be friends, or even less, and now, without the distraction.
he was gracious. which is pleasant, because though my sometimes brutally straightforward methods are wonderfully healthy for me, i fear they sometimes shock and alienate those who prefer a veil (curtain, or iron maiden).