Tuesday, October 26, 2004

Too Much of a Good Thing?

Just when I'm trying to streamline my life, get rid of the excess, or ex'es, another one comes flying in from the West Coast. It isn't the first time el Cubano has returned. Hell he's been in and out of my life for years. When he decided to uproot his life and replant it in Cali I let go of any expectations of anything ahppening between us, or so I thought.

On Monday he called me early and invited me over to see him out at his father's house in Nassau County. I showered, shaved, and perfumed and off I went, without a second thought. It went pretty much as planned. We talked for awhile. He played the guitar for me (ok that was new and oh so sexy. I was happy playing groupie to his rock god) then we had sex. And it was wonderful, great, passionate, raw, sex. I have come to accept his little kinks and play along enough to really enjoy the whole thing. On the ride home he was kissy and touchy and holding my hand, and putting his arm around me and telling me how sexy I was. It was heaven with the option to leave at anytime. He would be gone in a few days and it would be another year or so before I would see him again. Of course we would talk on the phone, commiserate about our respective mental defects but get on with our lives. In fact el Cubano was just obnoxious enough to have me shake my head and be happy that it didn't work out between us. I mean who the hell talks about a "closing ratio" with women?

He called me late Monday night, when I was sleeping already saying he wanted to see me early on Tuesday. I had an early meeting but promised to call him when I was done and call him I did, siked that I would be getting good sex two days in a row. He was in slightly a more sour mood when I arrived but nothing I couldn't handle. We watched some TV, laughed then got down to business over and over and over again. Shit, the sex just keeps getting better and better with him. Then in a moment of kinky sex conversation, he teasingly calls me a sick bitch and while I know he didn't mean it, at all, really, it hit me and made me think. OMG I am a sick bitch. Here I am fucking this man who will leave in a few days and return and expect me to be available and I will be and the worse part is that I really ::gulp:: like him. Yes I like him. I won't say the other L word even thoyugh it really wants to escape from me. I mean I've known him for years and all his bullshit and manic episodes and depressive withdrawals and yet he's brilliant and sexy and knows more about me than most men. We talk, we're friends. And there I was , naked, on top of him, and suddenly I couldn't deal. I could not deal with the fact that he was such an asshole yet so sweet to me and would be leaving me yet again. That's what it boiled down to, him leaving me again. So what did I do? I broke down and fucking cried. And I must say he was wonderful about it. Really. Talking it out of me, consoling me but of course not giving me what I wanted, a sense of security. Shit like he could give it to me anyway. He said we would figure it out. That he would be back in December. That I would go see him. But what like this? Like some lover from the past? Like some fucking rerun syndicated on both coasts? He invited me to a dinner with him tonight then took it back, saying he felt he was gonna get set off into a rage and not wanting me to see him like that. Hmm. Ok.

He drove me home to pick up the MapucheRican than drove both of us home. Have I mentioned how much the MapucheRican adores him and how great he is with her?

And now it's fucking stuck in my head. Him. El Cubano. Imperfectly beautiful. I can't think of anything else beyond him being here. Not even the filmmaker, another "fucking" friend, not hanging out, nada. And what? Do I let el Cubano leave asi no mas. Again. Maybe I should just let him leave and forget about him. But it's like I told him, I think about him and worry about him and think what if something happens to him out there in LA how would I ever know. His response, " I'll give you my father's number in case of an emergency so that you are always kept in the loop," and can I tell you that is more than any other man has ever fucking offered me. Sad no?

So que? What to do? If I'm lucky he'll make a clean break back to Los Angeles and disappear into the same black hole as the other California boy. Right? Y si no pasa asi?


Anonymous Anonymous said...

mamita - que te pasa, mi hermana? do you not appreciate your tremendous worth beyond your tasty sexuality? grrrrr! what would you tell your best friend if she related the same story to you? the world is yours to conquer, girl, if only you would get the hell outta your own way. :)

con carino.

10/27/2004 12:25:00 PM  

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