This is just one scenario that played itself out during what I like to think of as my lost years. Because like all good artist of any stripe there must be "lost years" of work that once uncovered explains said artist's overall body of work, progression and so forth. To say I regret nothing from those years would be a lie but regret is not something that I dwell on, regrets are things to learn from, paths not to take again.
One thing that I don't regret is when I kicked the Frenchman out of my bed. Sounds harsher than it was. See there was this bar in a random part of town, the first time I went it was one of those "best nights ever". So I went again and again, and again. With each visit things seemed progressively worse. Except, there was this French guy, slightly younger than me and cute (with me foreign never hurts). So I'd seen Frenchie once or twice before, we may have kissed or something. Then one night we ended up at my place. We were definitely MOLHing* (making out like hell)and then things got serious. Would we get down to the intercourse? Uh, negative. Why? Simply put Frenchie refused to french kiss my lady parts. It was as they say a deal breaker. Mon dieu!
Let me explain. It's not that I wouldn't have gone thru with the deed it's just that if a dude is asking for oral pleasure then I think he should live by the adage, it is better to give than receive. After that things fizzled out. As the sun was beginning to rise he mumbled something about having to be someplace earlier. Well, there's no time like the present homes, hit the bricks! Some events of the night that I'm not sure about for example, did we shower together or did I just do that alone.
(Digression: See I had somehow made a habit of showering with some of my gentlemen callers. Whether because it was after a long night out and I would have showered any way, or I thought they could use a good scrubbing and that it'd be hot. I don't really know. All I know is that it happened enough for a friend of mine to call me on this act).
Back to Frenchie. Shower or no what happened at the end is one of those things that I don't know why I did at the time, it may seem mean but I still think it is hilarious. I changed the sheets on my bed. Not after he left, but while he was still there. Was that wrong? My friends seemed to think is was an f'd-up thing, it was just some that came to me in the moment. Needless to say I never saw Frenchie again.
One thing that I don't regret is when I kicked the Frenchman out of my bed. Sounds harsher than it was. See there was this bar in a random part of town, the first time I went it was one of those "best nights ever". So I went again and again, and again. With each visit things seemed progressively worse. Except, there was this French guy, slightly younger than me and cute (with me foreign never hurts). So I'd seen Frenchie once or twice before, we may have kissed or something. Then one night we ended up at my place. We were definitely MOLHing* (making out like hell)and then things got serious. Would we get down to the intercourse? Uh, negative. Why? Simply put Frenchie refused to french kiss my lady parts. It was as they say a deal breaker. Mon dieu!
Let me explain. It's not that I wouldn't have gone thru with the deed it's just that if a dude is asking for oral pleasure then I think he should live by the adage, it is better to give than receive. After that things fizzled out. As the sun was beginning to rise he mumbled something about having to be someplace earlier. Well, there's no time like the present homes, hit the bricks! Some events of the night that I'm not sure about for example, did we shower together or did I just do that alone.
(Digression: See I had somehow made a habit of showering with some of my gentlemen callers. Whether because it was after a long night out and I would have showered any way, or I thought they could use a good scrubbing and that it'd be hot. I don't really know. All I know is that it happened enough for a friend of mine to call me on this act).
Back to Frenchie. Shower or no what happened at the end is one of those things that I don't know why I did at the time, it may seem mean but I still think it is hilarious. I changed the sheets on my bed. Not after he left, but while he was still there. Was that wrong? My friends seemed to think is was an f'd-up thing, it was just some that came to me in the moment. Needless to say I never saw Frenchie again.
