stupid boys. stupid me.

Bar B Que makes the heart feel fine.

yummmmmo.

I have serious attitude bah.

so at lunch i sat down at the table with a few police officers. One I call "Galoot" because he used to come around a lot when i worked at the Flyaway. And he’s just really tall and has a big belly and he’s like 33 but looks in his 40’s and he’s really goofy and has this really nutball sense of humor (which is sort of like mine, but don’t tell anybody!)

so yeah, sat at the table with him, and he commented that he’s been losing weight, and i noticed he had.

so my stupid ass decides to make eyes at him. he’s very flirty as it is, so i was being evil and initiating flirty stuff.

and eating bread as seductively as possible…. mmm the bread was just… ohhhh… soooo… goood… mmmm. Licking my lips and letting him catch me staring at him. He does have pretty eyes… hahaha, yeah… totally working it…

and so on and so forth like an idiot.

but for some reason, it has me in a better mood.

Whatever. I never asked to be so goddamned sexual. I just AM.

and in my defense, i’ve been a lot less guy crazy. I have stopped talking to almost all of the boys on my "list" and i haven’t added any new ones… so… it’s all good. hell, i’m gonna feel insane if I’m talking to a boy or not. I’m gonna feel lonely if i’m getting rejected or not. so… so what. so if i’m not talking to any boys or anything i just hate myself for that reason.and when i am, i hate myself for that reason.

i can’t win. hahahah

so damn melodramatic and retarded.

yeah. so bah.

i feel like i’m fine in the ways that matter and utterly ridiculous in the ways I can’t change and hopeless in the ways that shouldn’t matter anyway.

what does it all mean? I don’t know.

I do know that I have 1.5 hours of work left.

hells yeah biatches.

i wanna be stupid and talk about a few things. it is a little sexual. so don’t read the rest of this entry if you don’t like that stuff.

like, when we (photo boy and I) were hanging out at the bar we were in this booth. and he was like relaxed next to me and he kept sorta "accidentally" touching my thigh. and then i told him that it was making my brain stop working when he touched me. so he started doing it more and on purpose. *sigh*

stupid boys. stupid me.

then when he was giving me the backrub (ah, so nice, i want those every week thanks) his fingertips would tickle along the curve of my breasts. ah shiver.

stupid boys. stupid me.

and then he kissed my bare back a few times. like lifted up my shirt to do it. and my entire spine caught fire and almost made me want to scream.

and why did I not stop him then?

stupid boys. stupid me.

and he’d touch me and touch me and it tickled like  CRAZY, but i didn’t tell him to stop because i wanted to feel that pressure build up and up and up until his fingertips lifted and it would evaporate away like steam. then build up and up and up again. and i couldn’t laugh, couldn’t wiggle. just let it build up underneath my skin like dynamite waiting to explode… then dissipate once more.

stupid boys.

stupid me.

i hate that he did those things. I hate that he paid attention to me and what I liked and was so good at it. I hate that I want to see him again and be around him. I hate it all.

because if he had just been mean and told me he wanted to get laid and just did it and let me go away without pulling me close to him and  falling asleep and smelling so good and just. *pout*

he would have let me stay there.

nobody has ever stayed… or let me stay.

i dunno.

i’m attached to the… IDEAL behind it. i want that ideal. i want to fool myself into believe he liked me.

but he doesn’t.

nothing will convince me otherwise unless he actually talks to me soon.

oh well.

whatever.

stupid boys.

stupid me.