The Baymont
under construction
fucking room numbers laying on the floor in front of the door
walls stripped
carpet all fucked up
windows smudged
wainscotting falling off
new ceiling paint
perfuming the room.
he’d driven in from Atlanta
and quickly exposed himself as a compulsive liar
though he enjoyed it
and didn’t do it maliciously
— he did his best not to play tricks with me
but he never told me his real name
still
four hours of massage
and i’d finished the session
but there’d been some amazing stories
not to mention butt-licking and cock sucking going on there
— he’s a hot little guy (well, he’s very big, actually: i’m a hot little guy)
and around 3am we ended up going to sleep
cuddling only a little
(we’d had plenty at that point)
he said he woke around 6
and caressed me for hours
which usually wakes me up
but didn’t this morning
though when he started mouthing my dick through the sheet
we got going again..
he was fun
beautiful
just a guy
with a nice dick
giving sensuality
and witty mind
“i want a man like that”
i thought
sizing him up for a husband
which i noticed i’d done the night before
this prisine man
who’d not been having sex with his life
but making music
dual citizen of here and england
“what a make” i thought
“we could get married and live in a little room in Bloomsbury”
or somewhere better
kissing him passionately
wrapping my body around him
he was adorably handsome when he was naked and horizontal on the bed in my arms
but didn’t look as good under the flourecent light of the sink…
which was fine
because he didn’t care how he looked
and why should it matter anyway?
why was i imagining him as some future lover?
sure
i DID like being with him and DID find him sexy
but what’s this husband shit?
i shake my head and drive on
really
i hate sleeping in hotels
but i’ve stayed in two since goat got back
no way i can stay with him
fragile boiling pot
and why is that?
why am i afraid of him?
and torturing him?
oh boy
our fucked up emotional bodies
this guy and that guy
the love and lust
hopes and failures
good time for a quote:
“you drift all your life
from ocean to ocean
— search the whole world
but your drunken confessions
and hijacked affairs…
just make you more alone”
i dunno
i’m not going to judge it
i’m just noticing it
(as an act of self defense)
but it felt nice for a while.
0 thoughts on “Hotel Nights”
Anonymous
Husband
Hey Babe
Now why would you want someone like that when I am here , You had me the min. you walked off the train in Roselle Park , NJ .
fotornalez_drif
lately i’ve been noticing i want a future with some people.
seeing them in public, these strangers, and imagining a whole narrative.
i guess i’m feeling vulnerable and want someone to stick with me.
so i can do the same.
i guess some stuff you wrote triggered parts of me.
i can’t do the physical part, however. i don’t know what i’m saying. i’m drunk on feelings.
dennisatl
“no way i can stay with him
fragile boiling pot
and why is that?
why am i afraid of him?
and torturing him?”
you think maybe he is crazy with hurt?
Maybe I shouldn’t even say, but
Hold him? comfort him?
“I know how bad you are hurting now,
but let me just help it feel better for a while”
“Come here. And if you need to cry, it’s okay too.”
Easy for me to say from here
too far to throw a stove lid at me
but sometimes if you can be this brave
maybe he can be brave enough to confront his hurts and fears
which usually scares the shit out of most of us guys
Anyway, you asked
and this is what I thought in answer
but you gotta figure out what is your answer
as you see it
dominicvine in reply to dennisatl
Yeah
but you know what?
i don’t fucking like being the daddy all the time
and i’ve been listening to him bitch and complain about his life
and his fear
and i’ve tried my best to comfort him at times
and i’m tired of it
but ESPECIALLY
because he hasn’t offered me a bit of comfort and compensation about how hurt and scared i feel for him having offered me the house and then
just not giving it to me
it’s the same fucking think yakov did
and it just makes me fee so angry
Angry: i’m very angry with him
and i’m when i’m feeling like shit all he can do is demand the stage
so fuck him if he’s hurting
i’m not about to comfort him
because he’s not comforting me
and i know that’s a catch-22
and i know it’s not fair
but i’m tired of it
i’ve had this pattern over and over
same fucking thing happened with Nay last year
with his friend dying just as i got there
and i COULDn’t ask him to comfort me in my fear and confusion
because he was a mess
and i tried to comfort him
and i’m tired of that
FUCK IT
i’m moving on
and not permitting this story to repeat again
(huff)
Anonymous in reply to dominicvine
okay thanks for saying this
and it’s like I said in my e-mail about not
knowing the shit what I’m talking about when your not
in the same spot, we are not, to actually talk
so I say something and maybe it’s fullashit
then you say something that’s your real what’s been
goin on… so…see what’s what now at least
even if I kinda got it out of you by being pretty
worthless w/ my advice…sheeyut! this is a bad way to
converse
dennisatl in reply to Anonymous
and NOW it didn’t even acknowledge who I was
and you can always recognize MY voice
like I sed…sheeeyut!
dennisatl
just WAIT a fuckin minute!!!
any little room in Bloomsbury that doesn’t include me
is gonna piss me off big time, yuh know?
I mean, sure if it happens, okay, but don’t look
for me to come visit LOL
and (sighhhhhh)
dominicvine in reply to dennisatl
dude
i’m just writing about how silly my emotions are
don’t think i’m taking them seriously.
dennisatl in reply to dominicvine
yeah… I know and Bloomsbury is so damn full of prissy bitchy
Frenchmen- so anal about their bed linens…and the occasional bomber too…
let’s look for somewhere else… tho it IS a catchy song!