Friday, November 23, 2007

Studying

What’s most depressing is how many people say happy Thanksgiving when I'm walking down the street, first it's the woman who's with the guy who says something to me and I look at him to figure it out. Oh, he just looked me up and down and said you’re a mess. He's clearly the mess, practically nodding off just standing there -- walking away I realize it made me sad when he said you're a mess, I guess because I was looking at him with some sort of openness. I thought of saying look who's talking, but instead I said thanks, darling. It's the girlfriend who says happy Thanksgiving from behind me, I lift my hand a little to show that I've heard but otherwise I don't respond. Then I feel sad that I didn't return her wishes, she was probably embarrassed for her boyfriend and wanted to say something nice.

Back at home, I call the phone sex line, just to see -- I'm trying to resist talking like everyone else, with that efficient masculinity I've unfortunately learned -- I mean, I've been calling phone sex lines since I was 15. The first ones were recordings, a woman talking about that big, fat peppermint stick ooh I want to suck on that peppermint stick. After that it all went live. I used to actually hook up from phone sex lines, but now it's about one out of a hundred calls -- I mean literally. Anyway, I'm trying to sound more like myself and less like someone playing the rules, because the rules don't serve me they're serving someone else. It's hard to avoid changing my voice to hey-what's-up-speak, I have to record my message a few times before I actually sound like me -- I say: I'm not looking for turkey, I just want your come down my throat -- you can eat mine too. And then I'm laughing a bit on the message, I like that.

Oh -- but who else says happy Thanksgiving? The woman dealing crack who I talked to once, the drunk guy with a pink face, the guy standing outside the Turkish restaurant, the guy who works at the convenience store across the street from me. All of these people in my short walk -- is it really a happy Thanksgiving for all of these people? But back to the phone sex line -- that's a happy Thanksgiving, I scroll through the callers -- eleven, more than I would have expected. Before the internet there were always 35, which was the maximum the line could take, but now it never goes above the teens, sometimes there are only six or seven. I listen to everyone's messages -- the usual -- I'm about to hang up, but I actually get a response, this guy says he's 31 and Latino, I sound hot -- and oh, my name’s Jorge, he says at the end -- I like that part, a human touch. I like having sex with humans.

So then we make plans to hook up, he says he's coming over in a cab -- suddenly I'm wired, like I can't focus on anything, even though I'm not sure he’s really going to show. I put a sheet over my comforter so that I don't have to change the whole bed, eat some more, put my toothbrush out so I can brush my teeth right before he arrives, and -- I'll admit it -- I put on house music. I'm not embarrassed about living for house music, I mean the right kind of house music -- but it's kind of cheesy to throw down the pumping bass right before the pumping. I check the time, figure if more than a half hour passes then I'll forget about it, but then he’s actually here.

There's the awkwardness when he enters and I'm studying his face, I'm wondering if this is what cheek implants look like. He’s a circuit queen type in his mid-40s, but he's cute enough -- I wish we lived in a world where someone could say he’s in his mid-40s, and actually hook up on the phone sex line. I'm not sure he’s that into me either but I hug him and kiss his neck, hoping his cologne will wash off and pretty soon we're on the bed I can tell he’s most fascinated by my dick, which is -- um, a lot larger than his eight inches, but I'm not stressed out about that kind of thing. He angles my dick up against his ass and that's hot enough, his ass is one of those that could certainly be called a bubble, in the language of gay pickups -- I remember someone asking me a while back: does that mean it's a bubble inside, or outside? Bubblicious, like chewing gum -- salty salty chewing gum!

What's funny is that this guy doesn't really like to suck that much, we're in the 69 position I'm certainly going all the way he keeps jerking me really fast I keep grabbing his hands so he'll stop but he’s jerking harder and faster anyway and then dammit I'm coming already. I guess that's what he wanted, because he gasps then he's coming on me, he has one of those bodies where everything is round -- steroids, the gym, creatine, I'm not sure if that's the order.

I'll admit I'm annoyed at him for getting me to come so fast -- I'm neurotic about wanting to come at the exact right moment, so I can get to that high where I can hardly open my eyes not just the oh-what's-next. Turns out he's in a rush to get to the Thanksgiving dinner, but he likes the photos on my walls, he glances at the wall of books and says what do you study? He’s studying my face for something, I'm not sure exactly what. He says what are you doing tonight? I'm going to hide inside. He says you’re going to get high? Then he adds: not that there's anything wrong with that -- that's what makes me think he's sober. I say no, I actually don't do drugs, but I don't repeat myself about hiding since he didn't get it the first time.

I like this moment at the end, one minute of conversation with someone random who I’ll never really know anything about but it feels comfortable -- that's what I like, the comfort in little tiny pieces of knowledge. But what do I study? Good question -- afterwards I'm in the shower for a while, I want to make sure that none of the cologne remains, tearing up my sinuses when I'm trying to sleep. The first half of the shower is relaxing -- I'm thinking I'm ready to go out! Then the second half I crash, thinking how do I get out of this shower? Then I'm walking extra-slow like there's no energy left, how am I going to do anything? But then I eat, and eat more, and then I actually feel calm even though I'm still wiped out. I think that's the first time I've had sex in like a month, which is crazy -- I mean, I jerked off with that guy hugging me from behind at the Nob Hill Theatre, but that was more like jerking off with someone there. Other than that, it's been at least several weeks -- the thing about having sex that's even somewhat satisfying is that then my body’s ready for more, but I feel calm about it

7 comments:

Alex Blaze said...

"I like having sex with humans."

Yeppers!

If not Happy Thanksgiving, then Happy Black Friday, Mattilda!

Hahahahahahahaha, j/k! Something tells me you're not into the shop-till-you-dropness of it all. Great post on the subject here.

But, seriously, have a nice evening!

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

I know -- humans, indeed!

Black Friday -- do they really call it that? But wait -- today I got a Gucci clutch, an Yves Saint Laurent tote, and of course six Vuitton handbags -- and that was just so I could carry all of my Hermes scarves over to the Jaguar dealership...

Love --
mattilda

adam said...

you are a sex god

Jacob the Unicorn said...

you are a sex god

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Jacob and Adam, you girls are wacky... or maybe it's time for a three-way... Do let me know!

Love --
mattilda

Pete said...

Mattilda - I feel like Fate gave me a big wet blowjob, having ended up here on your blog pages. I can't remember the thread I was following and how I got here LOL but I have been reading recent entries and its great to have a peek into someone's SF life. I'm much more of a gender (but not sexual) conformist, but love the welcoming power that our gray-cloaked City seems to have often, if not always. Best...Pete

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Pete, a big wet blowjob from none other than Fate? Well, how lovely... thanks for writing, and stay in touch, for sure.

Love --
mattilda