You're no fucking Elvis

I apologize for the lack of updates recently. Things have been somewhat busy on the boy front, and with life in general. I'm certain that the boy I was fucking a few weeks ago is interested in more than fucking. Isn't that what hussies secretly hope for? It's one of those famous urban relationship myths, the fuck buddy who turned into a great love. But there's a reason why it's just a myth. We categorize people, sort them to keep our lives simpler. It's perplexed me for some time now, but we can't jump from one category to another. And while attraction and desire account for a lot, it isn't enough to make me swoon. I don't know what makes it so difficult to see him in a different way, but I just can't. I keep fucking him, because, frankly, I love knowing that he's interested and can't have me. I love the idea that I'm somehow unreachable to him.

Simultaneously, I started fucking a new boy today. I never get tired of hearing that I'm the best someone has been with. It never ceases to amaze me that whenever I hear that, I know it's not going to be the best that I've had. The sex was definitely good, just not amazing.

I would really love to write more and supply you all with the witty banter you've come to expect, but I'm tired and I basically can't attempt to produce anything worthwhile. Perhaps in a few days I'll feel more creatively inspired. Let's hope. In the mean time, check out Toby's blog for the first installment of Vivid Blurry Radio. Enjoy 30 minutes of us generally being inappropriate, and glimpse the splendor that is our lives.