Lying naked and winded, fresh out of cigarettes – kicking the habit anyway – on your bed as you begged for another story with your ear pressed to my chest to feel every vocal vibration, we came to appreciate how affectedly we loved previous lovers. It was another narrative woven into our garbs but it was a best-seller. Doesn’t that count for anything?
The stories I told on days like those could fill volumes, although it was difficult to pinpoint the reason for your curious penchant. Maybe you simply enjoyed the sound of my voice or wanted to damn the silence in the room. Surely you wouldn’t request the same from a hubristic drunkard.
Although our rich companionship is often aggrandized in my head, the intensity and pathos still feels real. I now realize why you asked for a tall tale or factoid; you wanted all of me. After giving myself to you physically, you only wished to couple these ephemeral moments with something to take away. I’ll never have a chance to say it outside of this frivolous blog but I miss that and I’ll find it again. Only this time, I’ll be sure to reciprocate the offer.
-Single Guy in NYC