L  has a bulbous lower lip and platinum hair. She is wary of why I like her. She has
a good body and an ugly mean face.
You are pretty I said.
Two women argue in the night. They don’t care about waking anyone. The apologetic and defensive voice annoys me.
Too bad we aren’t thriving, L said.
L is never going to fuck me. I hate her for it, even though I’m not sure I would be able to get it up. I have had one disappointment after the other. She hates me for my bad luck. My stepfather mocks me for it. He has the kind of success that puts fear into
my heart.
L wrote a ten thousand word letter on her smart phone explaining why she thought I was unsafe in response to a letter I sent her about my needs.
I am not a Domme for the world, L said in response to my letter. In fact, I tend to be very submissive with the men I seek out. When I Domme, it is typically not in the bedroom, and it brings me no sexual pleasure. It’s more like kinky social work to me.
I think it switches in a relationship, I said. A person can be in control and not in control in the bedroom. It’s best when a person communicates to the other what they want. Its not as black and white for me , sex that is. But like you I tend yo be more submissive. Its funny how most women are submissive
Many women aren’t “submissive” but rather like the man to drive in the bedroom said L. The term “submissive” entails a little more in terms of power exchange.
Maybe I’m a passive homosexual who likes to be fucked senseless I said. I don’t see sexuality as fixed.
Sexuality is fluid, but to a point, L said. Certain parts of one’s sexual profile are rather hardwired, at least in my case.

The tomato soup in my lean pot with a handle that my ex wife gave me when I left the house is hot, it scalded my tongue.
Warm soup produces nostalgia and staves my depression. I haven’t showered in four days. I don’t have clean underwear. I’m wearing a pair of grey black jeansI bought a week ago at Fred Meyer. Everything I wear is from there. I look like every man in Portland.
I’m seeing a woman tomorrow. She looks very unaffected in an affected way as if she indeed is very opinionated. She has a good long body of hair that speaks of sex and health. I want to go down on her in my filthy bedroom. I need to hire a cleaning lady. She can do my laundry. Maybe I can get her to marry me.
The young 23 year old woman from the Bay area who choked and smacked and kicked my scrotum didn’t return my call which is expected. She still may call. It would be better for my mental health if she didn’t. She insisted that her amateurishness as a sadist would make for an intimate relationship. I gleefully agreed.
The soup is very good. I want to spend all my money on tomato soup. My mother made the best tomato soup every Christmas.
L, when she isn’t on Division st. training a sub, is on the coast of Oregon in a small town cleaning homes for a meager living. Insomnia is one of the symptoms of her depression. She has the understated demeanor of an actress I like who studied at Yale and only appears in art films. L has been looking for a skillet and a manual to help her fix her cuisine art oven. She sends me messages late at night. I feel like she is orbiting me and that she may never escape the small town she had rather live in than Portland.
L says she has messed up teeth. I have a weakness for bad teeth. In not one photo
does she smile.