Conversations You End Up Having When You're Drunk

Somehow after coming home completely wasted from a party last night on the upper east side, I found myself having a long, intense conversation online with the marine. For those of you who haven't been reading this blog from the beginning, I'm talking about the first guy I ever fooled around with, and who probably contributed a great deal to whatever dysfunctional ideas I have of gay male relationships.

He started bringing up the times we used to hang out. Both of us were very deep in the closet, so the only place we could go to fool around was in the middle of the woods. He said the best parts were when we used to just lie their naked - getting fucking attacked by bugs - and he'd hold me in his arms. Before long we were talking about how we want to do it again, how it would be nice to be able to actually spend a night together in a bed. I ended up confessing that I probably did have feelings for him, and he said he felt the same - this of course doesn't explain how he became a huge flake later on, though it does justify how after that he ended up cheating on his boyfriend (who he didn't tell me existed) to fuck me the last time we saw each other in person (yes, for the first couple months of my gay sex life I was a bottom...).

The depressing thing about it all is that for as much of an emotional cripple as I can seem to be, he's just slightly more of one. We both liked each other, wanted things to work out, but they didn't - I don't know why, and I don't think he does either. That's why even though we talked about spending the night together when he gets his new apartment and I'm back home visiting for the holidays, about me falling asleep in his arms, waking up together, I know not to expect it. It will probably be a few months before I even hear from him again - and I know I will.

I guess I've just really wanted to sleep with someone lately...