An Attractive Dunst
I was watching a movie called “The Secretary,” starring James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhaal. She plays a woman that is recently released from a mental institute, where she was incarcerated for being a cutter [a person that finds enjoyment in bloodletting], and then after her release, she applies to be James Spader’s secretary. It’s an S&M love story. James Spader asks Gyllenhaal to wear restraints, asks her to bring his papers on her knees, and as she reads his dictated letters—he spanks her. Their relationship isn’t about sex, but rather about fulfillment of Spader’s character’s desire to be obeyed and Gyllenhaal’s character’s desire to be needed, relied on when asked, or simply keeping her word. And then I thought about my sexual relationships, and how most of my thoughts regarding them were non-sexual:
After the party, she took me home.
She was part German and part Irish. We had met twice before that night, and she enjoyed talking. She spoke freely about religion, family angst, and traveling—in her mind, this was her being intimate. This was her sharing herself. And that was me, listening like a passenger in a stranger’s car that’s too afraid to change the station as she lightly kissed my chest. I tapped my finger on my neck, and thought about how it that was the same thing; how bored I was; about the Chinese water torture; I thought about how I wished I had driven. In that same breath she referred to her and me as us, and then I thought—I don’t know how to spell her last name.
This other woman looked like an attractive Kirsten Dunst.
She was an aerobics instructor, and infatuated with Austin Powers. I remember thinking—God, she has big hands. She was very explicit on where I could and couldn’t touch. When we kissed, she reminded me about the mass confusion that existed when people drew up the boundaries to Israel.
She was an Italian with a small mouth and short tongue.
She would kiss hard. She had large breasts, and when my friend asked me about them I said, “It’s kind of like going to Thanksgiving dinner all by yourself, and then you realize that you’re all right on just the right one. And then afterwards you can’t help but to think what a shame it was that you couldn’t doggy bag the left one for later or for a friend.”
She and I were just friends.
We never touched intimately and we would sit up late drinking. Our goodbye hugs were a cheap excuse to touch; to hold one another for an extended amount of time. Neither of us had the nerve to say that we wanted more, and if this was all it was—we were going to be content with the sexual tension.
Relationships—they never seem to be based on what you believe that they are based on, sometimes they are based on what you aren’t. Sometimes they are based on what you wish you were. It’s easy to say that religion, physical attraction, education, background, lifestyle, and goals brought you two together, but I don’t believe it. I think we choose people based on roles that need to be fulfilled.
Be with a small woman, because it will make you feel bigger and stronger. Be with that hulking man because you can continue to masquerade as a little girl. Be with that attractive person, because it means you’re attractive. Be with that ugly person because you want to look understanding and compassionate. Be with that groupie, because you want to feel like a better artist/writer/musician/actor/dancer than you really are. Be with that person that loves walks on the beach, roses, and love songs because you want to look like a romantic, instead of someone gullible. Be with that man that treats you badly because you believe in being with people as crooked as you are. Be with that controlling woman because you’re looking for another mother in your life.
Isn’t an orgasm just a muscle spasm? But it’s a damn good one. And on that note, here are a couple of links that cheapen sex and relationships that much more:
Date To Save
Cuddle Party
Become A Cuddle Party Lifeguard: Cuddle Party Facilitator
After the party, she took me home.
She was part German and part Irish. We had met twice before that night, and she enjoyed talking. She spoke freely about religion, family angst, and traveling—in her mind, this was her being intimate. This was her sharing herself. And that was me, listening like a passenger in a stranger’s car that’s too afraid to change the station as she lightly kissed my chest. I tapped my finger on my neck, and thought about how it that was the same thing; how bored I was; about the Chinese water torture; I thought about how I wished I had driven. In that same breath she referred to her and me as us, and then I thought—I don’t know how to spell her last name.
This other woman looked like an attractive Kirsten Dunst.
She was an aerobics instructor, and infatuated with Austin Powers. I remember thinking—God, she has big hands. She was very explicit on where I could and couldn’t touch. When we kissed, she reminded me about the mass confusion that existed when people drew up the boundaries to Israel.
She was an Italian with a small mouth and short tongue.
She would kiss hard. She had large breasts, and when my friend asked me about them I said, “It’s kind of like going to Thanksgiving dinner all by yourself, and then you realize that you’re all right on just the right one. And then afterwards you can’t help but to think what a shame it was that you couldn’t doggy bag the left one for later or for a friend.”
She and I were just friends.
We never touched intimately and we would sit up late drinking. Our goodbye hugs were a cheap excuse to touch; to hold one another for an extended amount of time. Neither of us had the nerve to say that we wanted more, and if this was all it was—we were going to be content with the sexual tension.
Relationships—they never seem to be based on what you believe that they are based on, sometimes they are based on what you aren’t. Sometimes they are based on what you wish you were. It’s easy to say that religion, physical attraction, education, background, lifestyle, and goals brought you two together, but I don’t believe it. I think we choose people based on roles that need to be fulfilled.
Be with a small woman, because it will make you feel bigger and stronger. Be with that hulking man because you can continue to masquerade as a little girl. Be with that attractive person, because it means you’re attractive. Be with that ugly person because you want to look understanding and compassionate. Be with that groupie, because you want to feel like a better artist/writer/musician/actor/dancer than you really are. Be with that person that loves walks on the beach, roses, and love songs because you want to look like a romantic, instead of someone gullible. Be with that man that treats you badly because you believe in being with people as crooked as you are. Be with that controlling woman because you’re looking for another mother in your life.
Isn’t an orgasm just a muscle spasm? But it’s a damn good one. And on that note, here are a couple of links that cheapen sex and relationships that much more:
Date To Save
Cuddle Party
Become A Cuddle Party Lifeguard: Cuddle Party Facilitator
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on Friday, July 1 at 11:19 AM.
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1:24 PMI like to choose girls who will fulfill the role of laughing at my pathetic jokes. Lita Jente fulfills that need.
2:58 PM
Huh what? How did I get involved in a conversation about my best friend's sexuality activities???
12:35 PM
What?! Best friend? Oh crap. I... I... I didn't know. I don't know what to say... I... feel horrible.
5:41 PM
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4:37 PM
like tumbler and tipsy days hopefully we will remain in high spirits. well, good day
10:56 AM
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