Conversations with Boys

Location: Poor Paul's Bar on a bar stool, at the bar

Time: Roughly 11:59

A boyfriend? Nah, man. Boyfriends are for the gays now. So yeah, I'm single. No I'm not involved with anyone. What do you mean, "am I just trying to have 'fun'?" Of course I'm trying to have fun. Oh, you mean, hooking up? Like sex. Do I go around looking for dudes to bone me, is what you're asking. No, it's fine. I know that's what you mean. And you're probably asking because you need to know whether or not you need to keep half-ass flirting with me, or move on to the shot broad across the bar. She looks pretty easy She'll pretend to like it, to want it just as much as you do. She prides herself in Slut Status. You think I'm funny? That's sweet. I do like the attention.

No I suppose I'm not like other girls. Not like the other girls you try to get with, like that blonde creature over there. She doesn't know how big of a waste of time boys are yet. Wait a minute, now. I said boys. And by boys I mean, sex with boys. What do I mean by boys? Guys my age, or our age rather. Yeah, you think I go around wasting time trying to fuck 23 year old dudes? And what, watch them hump me like a puppy and his first plush squeaky toy rabbit? No, I've had good sex, and none of it involved one night stands, flings, casual dates, or college frat parties (that would be a rape-trap waiting to happen). No, I rather just wallow in my sexual frustration and return home alone. No it's not preferable. Of course the real thing is better. A real penis I guess (like those fleshy, veiny things that you keep hidden in your pocket?). But you're not it. You're not the real thing, you know what I mean? You're not what I really want. You're enough to provide me with mediocre sex, little to no oral and enough passion to buy a stick of gum. Leaving me with the pitted feeling. Slightly empty, slightly ashamed and slightly attached to you from the act of intercourse itself. I'd keep the fling going but only to eliminate that feeling of diminished value. I'd have to become a bit clingy, and you'd be obligated to entertain me so I could muster up enough confidence and worth to let you go. Or perhaps you find me too aggressive and ultimately ignore me ( because I'm a problem) until I go away. The latter is more likely. But after that severance (we both would be relieved) I could go back and do it all over again. Probably find another person just like you at this very smokey, sticky grimy bar that my friends and I go to in order to pretend we are interested in screwing bearded baby faces.

You're right, I have had a few horrible experiences and I should give people more credit, especially you. You have been engaging me this whole night. I'm still not going to sleep with you. I mean, I'm bored and lonely enough to, don't worry. Don't feel rejected too much. I'm imagining what it would be like to be in bed with you right now, even. But I know my expectations would be too high thus leaving me more disappointed than I already am with being alone. You wouldn't know what you're doing, and I have no intention of playing instructor (no, wait -- that vagina needs to be appropriately lubricated -- have you not figured out the difference between a dry pussy and a wet one? Or does it not matter enough to you to care?). I just don't have the energy level to pretend to enjoy horrible, inexperienced, rough, dry, rushed sex anymore. It's nothing against you, you just got here a little too late is all. Maybe you could blow me away with your skill level at foreplay (that weird heavy petting that feels just good enough to warrant a frustrated moan). We have no intention of forming a real relationship, so why go through all that secret shame? Why do that to yourself, I ask. Because you're trying to have some fun? Because you're trying to have a good time? I see.

Of course I want to live life to the fullest. You only live once, right? However, do you know how much paranoia sex causes to the single, sexually promiscuous girl? Pregnancy tests, doctor visits, STD testing, HIV testing, the extra number to the partner count and what it does to her reputation. The battle with insecurities, the dormant daddy issues. It goes on and on. Sex and desire and lust is a natural thing, to me. I can support that lifestyle -- if you can handle it. I know personally, I cannot. Which is just one of the many reasons why I will not sleep with you.

Oh, you just want to get to know me? This is just a casual conversation amid the dark jungle of mating calls and sexual displays? I find that hard to believe. You may be enjoying this conversation, but sex will always be at the forefront of your motivations along with every other male and female in this bar. We are an emotional, sentimental and lustful lot. Primitive, resourceful, and lonely. Everyone wants to fuck everyone.  Of course I think everyone wants to sleep with me. You  make it so easy. All a girl has to do is bat her fake eyelashes, cough up a little glitter and BAM, you're in. Literally. 

Whatever the case, like I was saying, sex with someone within our age group is a waste. Sure it's a way to gain experience. But I rather gain that experience with someone that I can call the next day and not feel like I'm being too clingy or wrestle the insecurities that I never address due to the emotional neglect from my father. How do I plan on finding someone to be with, you ask? Well I don't plan on being a celibate bitch forever, it's just not my time right now. And anyway, remember what I said about boyfriends. Boyfriends are for the gays, now. So I'll hang back while they weed out the unobtainable's. I can wait until I'm 25. I can wait that long to date a 30 year old and it not be creepy. I'm assuming they will be better at love than the rest of us at this point and time. Until then,  I'll sip on my Turbodog, smoke a few cheap cigarettes, engage in a few conversations at the bar, and return home, once again, alone and in peace.