A high cab driver drove me to 60th and Holgate at ten at night.
I was able to see the stars. The houses looked like a dysfunctional family.
J greeted me in a track suit in slippers outside. As she warned me she had no
make up on. She had been hiking in the Gorge and had a mild sun burn.
You can do whatever you want to me J said. You can pull my hair.
I pulled her hair. It felt good.
I want to make you feel good, J said. I want you to make me feel good.
Don’t you want to make me feel good?
Yeah, I said. I pulled at her breasts. J has a scar under her breast. Her
breasts may not be real and she has a flat ass.
I’m attracted to her twenty five year old former heroin addict
daughter. There was a five year period when her daughter’s disease could have
cost her twenty five years of her life or her life, but they contained it.
J’s former boyfriend slept with her twenty five daughter. J was able to forgive her because she was on heroin. Her boyfriend would give her money when she slept with him. J had to get rid of him when he refused to sleep with her.
J smokes vapor cigarettes. Her mouth tastes like vapor and nicotine.
Her daughter came out of her room. She isn’t as attractive as J. J said she was more attractive than herself. I think middle aged women tend to be jealous of their
daughter’s looks even when they are mediocre.
Do you have this problem more often than not, J said.
Well, I said. It does happen.
Sex is emotional, J said.
I have mental blocks, I said. I was lonely. A woman I had texted and had sent pics of herself tied up in different knots that had decoy knots that cut off her circulation and reddened her limbs, cancelled a date three hours before we were to meet.
Do you masturbate, I said.
I masturbate, J said. And I forget.
What do you forget, I said.
I forget about sex, J said. I don’t think about it anymore. It’s like I don’t have a body.
I don’t feel anything. When I do have good sex I remember every detail and I think about it when I masturbate. And then I can’t remember it and I forget about sex.
When I was eighteen my girlfriend at the time had said I didn’t like sex after I had been with her for a year.
What is going on, J said.
Well you could touch me, I said.
I did that, J said.
She sucked on my limp penis and it felt good.
I didn’t come out to see her to reject her, I thought. Or did I
What about the fifty year old woman you told me about you were three months with,
J said.
I had intimacy issues with her, I said. She managed it with me for three months.
Do you like sex, J said.
I felt like J wanted to cripple me.
Well I had sex with the fifty year old, I said.
That is rude, J said.
I’m not saying it is you, I said.
You had sex with her, J said. But not with me.
Well this is our first time, I said.
This is our third date, J said.
I wanted to take a photo of my ex wife earlier that day. She had on a Fila sweat shirt and red lipstick. She looked slutty in a good way and I felt jealous. I thought that she
has no problems getting men off. She has always been less complicated and less convoluted than myself.
Get the fuck out, J said.
It’s not you, I said.
I left my glasses behind in her ranch house. I was scared she was going to call the