I was with a boy.

I did not like him.

But I think he liked me.

I was not myself with him

At all.

He always wanted me to go down.

Normally with guys I never go down.

I hate it.

And with guys, I do not do things that I hate.

They're not worth it.

But with him

I cared about myself so little

Not because of him

Just because of myself.

So I went down.



Normally if I go down on a guy

It is only because

He has gone down on me

many times.

And he is quite good at it.

And I feel like I have to

Or I want to

Just because I care about him

And he has done it for me.


But with this guy

I just didn't care.


Now

I look back on the time we were together

And there is a lot to analyze.


We went to the lake

We drank on the way there

In the car.

He was driving.


We drank a lot

That is why we were together as long as we were.

Which was less than a month

Thankfully.


We fucked in the car

Going 60 miles an hour

It was such a great rush

I was naked

On top of him

It was so much fun.

Even though he sucked in bed

And that was ostensibly the only reason we were hanging out anyway

To have fun before I left

Fucking in that car

Going 60

Passing people

Me on top

Fucking away

That is a good memory.


I met someone else

1 week before I was to leave.

I had already stopped seeing him

I think.

But he was mad.

I didn't care

Just like the rest of our "relationship".


How funny is it

That the guy I cared about least

I went down on the most.


We cooked together.

That was the only other good thing

In all the time we spent together.


Ironically also

I think he was the first guy to notice

I had an eating disorder.

Because we cooked so often together.


He would say "pick this up from the store"

"Come over"

"Let's grill."


I would say, "ok"

Because I like to cook.

But I don't always eat.


We would prepare something fabulous

And I would get hungry before it was ready

And I would eat ice cream

And that was it.


He hated that.

So I liked it.