It’s funny how you give in to one bad habit, and then equally bad behaviors begin to re-surface and find their own rationales. A slippery slope that once you’ve got some momentum, it becomes increasing difficult to stop.
A year and a half ago I quit smoking, a habit which I enjoyed very VERY much. During that time I met my boy, J ... and we've been as happy as Sponge Bob and his boy Squidy living together in domestic Bikini-Bottom bliss. But I've never been one for too much happiness; at some point I always find some obscure way for fuck it all up.
Coming home one day from a blessed job assignment (blessed 'cause I'm always just half past broke), wearing my overalls and covered from head to toe in various colors of paint splatter … I ran into an old, but sexier than ever, bad habit of mine.
His name was Tim and I was his first. Yeah, I helped him discover his inner homo about six years ago when he was only nineteen. I watched him approach, through the paint speckles peppering the lens of my glasses. He gave me that smile, that sexy red-headed Latino smile that I fell in love with way back when … and as sweaty and as funky as I was … I instantly knew I wanted to cheat on J.
I looked like hell. I was wearing glasses. Double hell. And they had paint on them. Triple hell, fuck! If I’d planned our reunion, it wouldn’t have been on the one-hundred degree day I’d spent beautifying million dollar condos on Jersey City’s waterfront instead of moving in to one. Fate has a wicked sense of humor, that bitch. Still … I brought him home with me anyway.
As we caught up … he offered me a cigarette and for some reason I took it. He rolled a blunt and I shared that too. Then beer flowed ‘cause it was Miller time, and I thought I deserved it after such a hellish day. And Tim looked so good after spending the last three years, he informed me, in Florida … getting tanned and buffed apparently. I deserved some of that too … didn’t I?
Fortunately, I was in no condition for a late afternoon tryst. Although he seemed interested in picking up where we left off … I didn’t think it prudent to subject someone I cared about to the ‘funktitude’ that must be inhabiting my overalls.
Maybe fate wasn’t such a harpy after all. I didn’t jump his delicious looking bones … and he didn’t jump my questionably scented ones.
I couldn’t get him out of my mind after that though. I bought a pack of Salem Slim Lights and hid them in the fireplace. I started to have flashbacks of my cocaine days … when the drug and wild sex were intrinsically connected in my life. I craved smoky dives and pretty boyz lounged around pool tables, stipper boyz in cages oiled and gyrating for me alone. I was on that slope … and slipping fast. I knew this and still, a part of me wanted to experience that all over again … the thrill of the high, the passion, the sexual abandon … but not the horrible consequences I’d learned came attached to such hedonistic pleasures.
Somehow, I managed to control myself, and that wicked horned creature inside that made me do bad things. I confessed all of to J. He understood and we’ve grown even closer. Thank god for him. Yeah. Thank god for him.
The cigarettes are still in the fireplace ‘cause that’s one facet of the tale I left out. I wish it was a working one though, ‘cause right about now I need to burn some shit. The cigarettes … my love of artificial stimulants … my weakness for Latinos--especially the rare red-headed variety … and my tendency to grow bored so very easily, and whine when I should be happy.
I think I’ll throw that pack away today. I just won’t tell anyone I lapsed; no one really reads this anyway. (What a curious habit we bloggers have, spilling shit we want to keep secret.) Whatever. I’ll still proudly proclaim that I’ve been smoke-free for a year and a half … and dare any of you voyeurs to say different.
Yeah, I’m gonna throw them away today … and if Tim calls, tell him that, like Miss Otis, I’m unable to lunch today.
Or tomorrow … or the day after that … or …..
As we caught up … he offered me a cigarette and for some reason I took it. He rolled a blunt and I shared that too. Then beer flowed ‘cause it was Miller time, and I thought I deserved it after such a hellish day. And Tim looked so good after spending the last three years, he informed me, in Florida … getting tanned and buffed apparently. I deserved some of that too … didn’t I?
Fortunately, I was in no condition for a late afternoon tryst. Although he seemed interested in picking up where we left off … I didn’t think it prudent to subject someone I cared about to the ‘funktitude’ that must be inhabiting my overalls.
Maybe fate wasn’t such a harpy after all. I didn’t jump his delicious looking bones … and he didn’t jump my questionably scented ones.
I couldn’t get him out of my mind after that though. I bought a pack of Salem Slim Lights and hid them in the fireplace. I started to have flashbacks of my cocaine days … when the drug and wild sex were intrinsically connected in my life. I craved smoky dives and pretty boyz lounged around pool tables, stipper boyz in cages oiled and gyrating for me alone. I was on that slope … and slipping fast. I knew this and still, a part of me wanted to experience that all over again … the thrill of the high, the passion, the sexual abandon … but not the horrible consequences I’d learned came attached to such hedonistic pleasures.
Somehow, I managed to control myself, and that wicked horned creature inside that made me do bad things. I confessed all of to J. He understood and we’ve grown even closer. Thank god for him. Yeah. Thank god for him.
The cigarettes are still in the fireplace ‘cause that’s one facet of the tale I left out. I wish it was a working one though, ‘cause right about now I need to burn some shit. The cigarettes … my love of artificial stimulants … my weakness for Latinos--especially the rare red-headed variety … and my tendency to grow bored so very easily, and whine when I should be happy.
I think I’ll throw that pack away today. I just won’t tell anyone I lapsed; no one really reads this anyway. (What a curious habit we bloggers have, spilling shit we want to keep secret.) Whatever. I’ll still proudly proclaim that I’ve been smoke-free for a year and a half … and dare any of you voyeurs to say different.
Yeah, I’m gonna throw them away today … and if Tim calls, tell him that, like Miss Otis, I’m unable to lunch today.
Or tomorrow … or the day after that … or ….. 
5 comments:
Poor taylor no secrets no secrets on da blog you don't want nobody to know. I am glad you got off the slippery slope. But since you are so deep a thinker, what does the desire you had abt old boy say about you and your desire for J?
Is love so shallow a nice blast from the past can get some ass?
Hey Man...
Thanks for tuning into my show...How could I not know about your blog neighbor.
I feel like I may need to organize a Jersey City Bloggers meet up!
Holla Back on the show...
(Harold) That's a very deep question not easily answered. Maybe I'll explore that in a future blog ....
1. if there's a meet up of jersey bloggers, i want in
2. are you going to be at the rashawn brazell event on sunday?
Cigarettes, have that much power? Love the Voyeure in you
KD
Post a Comment