There’s this one woman I’ve watched online. She’s a professional masturbator who, by any appearance, loves what she does. She seems to be there, on cam, every waking hour, slowly sucking a dildo or flashing her boobs.
It took me a while to realize it, but I know why I’m so enchanted. She is classically beautiful, which is typically a turnoff for me. Beauty like that is a pain in the ass. But she seems joyfully aware of her powers in this realm, with a nod and a wink and a flash of that beautifully imperfect smile. Most of her teeth are milky white but a few have a sort of tan-colored tincture.
My attraction comes from how closely she resembles and ex of mine. Except that the resemblance is from 20 years before I knew that woman. This woman today is my idealized version of the woman I tried to love, who will likely forever be my last serious attempt at building a lasting, “meaningful” relationship. She ended up being poison for me but I can at least have that little smile of a memory in remembering how anyone who saw me with this woman would be like Dude, you scored!
I didn’t really. The beauty thing ran thin almost immediately. Our conversations were long. We would sit at the bar and talk everything from Heliopolis to Hinckley, as I savored with anticipation, running my eyes up and down those legs, mentally unwrapping her of that paper-thin shirt.
She was no intellectual but a sapiophile nonetheless. Between us both I think the conversations were the most stimulating times we had. Without fail the sex started out energized, then turned into dead weight. Finally seeing her naked was one of the great disappointments of my adult life, but I kept my charge alive focusing on what worked for me. The legs, the feet, the neck. I don’t even remember intercourse or cunnilingus, except to know that they happened.
I’ve been watching this woman tease her dildo for weeks now before it dawned on me. This is how I imagined the woman I bedded, bedded after months, even years of pursuit and sexual anticipation. I don’t think I ever pursued a woman with such singular focus or determination. She was never resistant, I don’t think, but she seemed puzzled by my seeming infatuation. She considered herself trashy, and so did I, but I was fine with that. I keep golden trashbags in my closet, after all.
In the end it was just wrong. Our basis of commonality was feeble, our mutual attraction palpable but not enough to sustain what we both seemed to assume we wanted: A so-called “traditional” relationship leading to something like marriage. Did either of us really want that? In the end it was just a dysfunctional, 6-month hookup.
…
Tomorrow I get fresh medz. At least I hope I do. I’m going to need them. dental travails have been rare for me but I guess I’ve reached the remonstrance. Grinding and age have led my teeth to erode. Two teeth were pulled as couple of years ago. Once a crown jewel of my health, a signal that I was classically good breeding stock, my teeth are coming apart. I don’t even care. I was hugely alarmed when I was told I had to have two removed. I reacted as if I’d been told I had 2 weeks to live.
Today’s dental warnings barely raise a gulp from me. Yesterday was uncomfortable and tiresome but never painful. I’m no wuss about pain, mind you, just so I know what’s causing it and, if possible, when it will end.
I spent about half the dentist session yesterday looking out a window at The Ledge, the thing at Hudson Yards where you stand on a glass floor and look down at the ground however many hundreds of feet below. The Ledge was empty, which it never is whenever I happen to see it.
I remembered a jocular chat with some tourists. They were slightly drunk in the middle of the day. Waiting at an intersection for a crosswalk signal to change we all found ourselves looking up at that thing.
One dude said “I’m not going up on that shit.”
I concurred, saying “I like having both my feet right here on the ground.”
Everybody laughed, a group of maybe 7 or 8 middle-aged peeps from somewhere other than here. It was a nice moment.
