Sometimes I think I let her get away. I didn’t try hard enough. I didn’t listen. She liked me a lot. I was in an unhealthy place. I was the horny lapdog who would do anything to please her, any kind of flattery when compliments and praise were not her style at all. The sex was no good. Barely even memorable. At first I was all over her, though, like a horny teenager with something new to play with. But she didn’t seem to reciprocate, or be impressed, save for occasional comments about my “excellent” cock. She said it was basically perfect. I’ve had some positive comments about that part of me before but hers were notable for how few other nice things she had to say about me. She didn’t do compliments the way I did, and I did compliments in gawky, desperate ways.

In the dreams she  was her youthful beautiful, something I’ve been remembering after finding a pornographer who looks so much like this ex it is scary at times. The way she smiles, the shape of her face, the general outline of her body. It’s freakin’ weird how much she looks like this ex.

The dream took place in Texas, where she had a lot of curious exes coming and going ruminating on how this woman and I had struck up yet another attempt at being in a relationship. No one wanted us to succeed..

There were multiple instances of her. As we sat fondling each other on a couch another version of her came to life. It had been frozen in place behind a glass container, her breasts bigger than for real but they shrank as she approached me. A third version of her came from another framed container, and all three ran their hands across all my body, dipping their fingers into my mouth and one of them pressing her mouth to my crotch, the cock visibly hardened within the white shorts I wore. Hands caressed my body under my shirt, and kisses started covering me. The excellent cock was revealed, hard as could be, to the smiles of all three clones of this beautiful, beautiful woman.

It was a sweet dream, the type that  occurs whenever I consider entering into a new relationship with an intention of making it last. I’ve been Hookup Harry the past few years, and it’s been fine. But someone new in my life seems different. A happy, stable person who seemed to like me from the first words I said, whatever the hell they were.  I look back at past relationships, thinking I should check in with those people to let them know I’ve found another, I’ve moved on. In some situations this seemingly gratuitous gesture made sense. In others it would be considered hostile.


Tomorrow is the 19th. 19 was her favorite number.