I'm drunk so this could be dyslexic. Hung out with Sam tonight. He's the bees knees. He played me dashboard on the guitar. He did it the other night too. He gets so excited, and he loves a good fire. He's a hippie in love with music and I think I could like him. He's not like everyone else. He's magnanimous. Could drift and music and smoke all day. He's blunt. More than me. I like that. It puts me on the spot and I revel in opportunities to think on my feet. He's laid back. No pressure. Just chill. He has his awkward moments but I like them.
I gave up. But he has the same Zest. I love zest.
I was with Benga last night. No one can induce the same thing as me. I got an orgasm.
I know I'm falling fast due to the fact I fucked and then joined a fucking dating site. A hook up one. I already deleted it knowing the slippery slope.
A lot of my day is thinking about dick impaling me. The thickness, the way it spreads me. So recovery... I deleted it.
I'm trying to be okay. That fast it wants to swoop me though. It's a never ending battle.
The life of a recovering sex addict.
No comments:
Post a Comment