fuck having tact. i'm as subtle as a brick to the small of your back. manners and social graces are boring and overrated, just bullshit with a better outfit. i know my flaws and i'll wear them on my sleeve...better i spell out the bad things and have you discover the good on your own than tease you with my merits and disappoint you later. meeting and dating and fucking and fighting and loving and lusting and losing and leaving would be so much easier if we stopped trying to trick each other and just laid shit out as it is:
i am loud and ornery. i chain smoke. i smoke weed like it's going out of style. i am a scrawny little thing, hopelessly girlish and emotional. but don't confuse that for weakness. don't call me cute. i'll kick cute's ass. i write compulsively, obsessively. i am antisocial and conflicted as a result. i pontificate shamelessly and masterbate relentlessly. i read shakespeare and the bible and am prone to excessive snobbery. i don't drink, don't dance and don't enjoy parties.
if you can deal with all that, i really don't ask for much.
when you approach me at a bar and offer to buy me a drink i want to be able to buy you one instead so when i kiss you goodnight, i don't feel like a hooker.
i don't want you to wait three days to call me if you are thinking about me later that night.
i don't want you take me to sushi. i don't want you to drop hints about how rich/intelligent/successful you are.
i don't want to wear a padded bra or high heels, dropping hints about how sexy/desired/hard-to-earn i am.
if you don't tell me lies to get me naked, i'll most likely take my clothes off for you.
if you respect me enough to not care when you call me just to say hi even though your friends are yelling "pussy" and making whipping noises from the other room, i'll do undignifed things to you when they aren't around (& pretend i don't know that you tell them).
if you don't talk shit when i listen to garth brooks and don't criticize the cure, i'll pretend that i'm really asleep while you watch the entire 40 minutes of the girls gone wild infomercial (even though the best parts are all blurred out).
if you don't get jealous when i kiss pretty girls or ask if i'm "on that porn site AGAIN?" i'll ignore the lipstick on your collar.
i won't laugh when you clap at the wrong time at a modern jazz concert if you won't yell when i lose all your money while you teach me texas hold 'em.
you don't need to replace the stack of maxims on your kitchen table with hardcover books of glossy escher paintings for me to want to hang out at your apartment and i don't need to hide my tampons or spray my sheets with perfume for you to hang out at mine.
if you promise not to pretend to understand my poetry when you don't, i will promise to never say "i dont mind if you don't want to stay" when i really mean "if i wake up in the morning and you are gone, you will never see my vagina again".
i don't need to believe that you grew a dick the day you met me or that it shrivels up and dies when you aren't with me.
you don't need to hide your porn dvds in the pocket of your old winter jacket in the hall closet. i won't pretend that i don't watch them when you arent home, or get mad that you hid them & use them as an excuse for why i dont want to give you head later. i don't want to call you twice a day, i don't want you to buy me flowers.
i want you to let me pay when youre broke as fuck, tell me when i have food in my teeth.
if you notice when i get my eyebrows waxed or when i dye my hair, i'll point out how much smoother your downshift has been since you got that new custom air filter put on.
i don't need promises, flattery or chivalry.( the door's not that heavy, i can open it myself).
i don't want a love story, i don't want your money or last name.
i want to laugh and live and sweat and leave.
it could be so simple. but since it's not, and i don't know you. i think i'll stay here and wait, procrastinating, masterbating...just fucking myself.
:
if anyone has actually read this far...i posted a new set of pics of my ladies. since 1st grade i have hung out with the same 7 girls. there are 8 of us but twins count as 1 and we have called ourselves the "real 7 posse" since 5th grade when the name actually sounded cool. yesterday was nar's 21st birthday, we partied like rock stars, the way gawdy l.a. chicks do and i remembered why those bitches are the air in my lungs. i
i am loud and ornery. i chain smoke. i smoke weed like it's going out of style. i am a scrawny little thing, hopelessly girlish and emotional. but don't confuse that for weakness. don't call me cute. i'll kick cute's ass. i write compulsively, obsessively. i am antisocial and conflicted as a result. i pontificate shamelessly and masterbate relentlessly. i read shakespeare and the bible and am prone to excessive snobbery. i don't drink, don't dance and don't enjoy parties.
if you can deal with all that, i really don't ask for much.
when you approach me at a bar and offer to buy me a drink i want to be able to buy you one instead so when i kiss you goodnight, i don't feel like a hooker.
i don't want you to wait three days to call me if you are thinking about me later that night.
i don't want you take me to sushi. i don't want you to drop hints about how rich/intelligent/successful you are.
i don't want to wear a padded bra or high heels, dropping hints about how sexy/desired/hard-to-earn i am.
if you don't tell me lies to get me naked, i'll most likely take my clothes off for you.
if you respect me enough to not care when you call me just to say hi even though your friends are yelling "pussy" and making whipping noises from the other room, i'll do undignifed things to you when they aren't around (& pretend i don't know that you tell them).
if you don't talk shit when i listen to garth brooks and don't criticize the cure, i'll pretend that i'm really asleep while you watch the entire 40 minutes of the girls gone wild infomercial (even though the best parts are all blurred out).
if you don't get jealous when i kiss pretty girls or ask if i'm "on that porn site AGAIN?" i'll ignore the lipstick on your collar.
i won't laugh when you clap at the wrong time at a modern jazz concert if you won't yell when i lose all your money while you teach me texas hold 'em.
you don't need to replace the stack of maxims on your kitchen table with hardcover books of glossy escher paintings for me to want to hang out at your apartment and i don't need to hide my tampons or spray my sheets with perfume for you to hang out at mine.
if you promise not to pretend to understand my poetry when you don't, i will promise to never say "i dont mind if you don't want to stay" when i really mean "if i wake up in the morning and you are gone, you will never see my vagina again".
i don't need to believe that you grew a dick the day you met me or that it shrivels up and dies when you aren't with me.
you don't need to hide your porn dvds in the pocket of your old winter jacket in the hall closet. i won't pretend that i don't watch them when you arent home, or get mad that you hid them & use them as an excuse for why i dont want to give you head later. i don't want to call you twice a day, i don't want you to buy me flowers.
i want you to let me pay when youre broke as fuck, tell me when i have food in my teeth.
if you notice when i get my eyebrows waxed or when i dye my hair, i'll point out how much smoother your downshift has been since you got that new custom air filter put on.
i don't need promises, flattery or chivalry.( the door's not that heavy, i can open it myself).
i don't want a love story, i don't want your money or last name.
i want to laugh and live and sweat and leave.
it could be so simple. but since it's not, and i don't know you. i think i'll stay here and wait, procrastinating, masterbating...just fucking myself.
:
if anyone has actually read this far...i posted a new set of pics of my ladies. since 1st grade i have hung out with the same 7 girls. there are 8 of us but twins count as 1 and we have called ourselves the "real 7 posse" since 5th grade when the name actually sounded cool. yesterday was nar's 21st birthday, we partied like rock stars, the way gawdy l.a. chicks do and i remembered why those bitches are the air in my lungs. i
VIEW 25 of 187 COMMENTS
Back at work today, so you're "safe"
i sure wish i were staring another five hours or so of repose in her beautiful face right now.
sigh. you stay awake too much and i can't sleep enough. juxtapo------ bleh. that word is cliche.
-pb