I smoke countless cigarettes while waiting for my boyfriend and his bandmate to pull into the parking lot of my apartment. He left his cigarettes (one of our shared addictions) here this morning in his rush to go home and get ready for his show in Montgomery tonight. I've never mentioned it to him, because he hasn't had that many shows since we've been together, but he always seems anxious before a show. It wouldn't be enough for anyone who hasn't spent hours upon hours with him to notice, and I barely notice it myself. He paces as soon as he stands, still friendly and loving but slightly lacking his usual carefree humor that he wears like a second skin.
He calls and tells me he's not far from my apartment. There wasn't enough time to make myself not look like shit, so I make up for it with a few sprays of my best perfume. If you can't look pretty at least you can smell fuckable, right? I smile to myself as I grab the Mountain-Dew I so sweetly bought for him as a small "I love you, and I'll miss you tonight" present. He pulls up right as I turn the corner of my building. I notice that Erek, his bandmate, isn't with him, which means I can kiss Chris how I want to without grossing out an unwilling audience. Which means I can also rub his cock through his jeans to remind him of what a ladylike catch I am.
We wrap around each other as soon as he steps out of the van, breaking away for only a second so I can hand him his drink and he can place it in a cup-holder then kisses me thank you.
There's a part, a very small almost minuscule part, of me that hates loving him so much. Only because it's horrifying. Being in love I mean. I've loved several guys in the past, but not like this. With one of them it was young love, something that I know would have probably turned into a life long thing had we been able to give it a chance, but we can't change the past so I never worry over it. The rest were chaotic loves, coming of age loves that I always knew were meaningless in the long run. Little cuts that would heal into white, almost invisible, scars. Painful, but not unbearable. Or rather, annoying but not long lasting (haha, clever penis joke. I'm hilarious).
He could break my heart though, if he ever wanted to...
Anyway. Back to non-heartbroken us.
I want to tell him all of this, however I'm sure there will be a better time, preferably while we're not in a parking lot. And, preferably when I'm wearing a short dress that makes me look like I a have a nice ass and decent sized tits. Instead I ask him about his plans for the night. He tells me about what time they're playing, how he'll text me before and after the show, tells me they're staying the night with Erek's friend Courtney.
Wait.
What?
Did the hotel they were supposed to stay in change it's name to Courtney? He explains that they can't get Erek's hotel employee discount in Montgomery so they're going to spend the night with this Courtney instead. Luckily I've already calmed my embarrassing jealousy when he tells me that this girl doesn't shave her armpits and is one of those new age wannabe boho half straight half lesbian hippies. I like to think that if he was going to cheat on me at least it would be with someone who shaves her armpits. I can just hear the whispers now if I'm wrong, "Oh there goes that poor Morgan girl. You know, her hot rock star boyfriend cheated on her with a girl that has hairy pits. I suppose shaving doesn't make up for being horrible in the bedroom". Psh, as if though. I'm fantastic in bed. That's what my therapist says at least.
Realizing that my boyfriend needed to leave, and wouldn't be around to cuddle me tonight, I gave him a few more goodbye kisses, and one last crotch grope for the road.
Now I'm sitting here smoking more cigarettes and listening to my super white guy friends try to do impressions of famous badasses, try being the key word there. Also, they're trying to tell me that Nightwing (Dick Grayson.... nevermind... just Google it if you care) looks better with a mullet. As usual, I strongly disagree.
No comments:
Post a Comment