if you want a side of fries, then go to mcdonalds

After too much coffee and a very satisfying cigarette in the almost dark, I’m ready to vent this. However raw, unflattering, and inappropriate.

Today I wrote to Mister X and said –

I want no more of this.
and
Go fuck yourself.

among other things and many more curses. The option of fucking yourself provides an alternative to his constant suggestion of placing me as the object of that verb. And I needed to make my answer to that suggestion, again, very clear. It’s not like I haven’t said it before or that, possibly, I won’t have to say it again. But it felt good to stand my ground and to keep solid in the stance. To say, I will not meet you here or there under these circumstances or any other, and the fact that you keep reducing our friendship to sexual contact lacks the level of dignity, character, and respect that I consider necessary to the progression of any deep meaningful relationship.

He’ll apologize, I’m sure. There’ll be a message waiting for me sooner or later to explain how I misunderstood. How he meant his comments as flattery rather than innuendo. Sometimes I want to phone his house to say, If I wanted someone to fuck me, there are two or three people I’d choose before you. But however true that might feel, I probably wouldn’t say something like that in any given scenario.

I’m not sure how or why I seem to get myself into these situations.
Maybe I do.
Maybe that’s the problem.
The whole lot of it is – I can see myself being at fault in this thing.
And I wonder if it all didn’t begin with me.
fuck it.
fuck, fuck, fuck