Rub my head while you fck me.

I'm rather perturbed right now because my hair looks horrible. I'm not good at maintenance haircuts. I'm good at letting it grow for a couple months, then chopping it all off extra short so I won't be bothered for several weeks.

This morning I attempted to maintain my haircut from a week and a half ago. It didn't go over so well. I think tonight it might all have to go -- we're talking no plastic guard on the clippers. I've never had it quite that short, but I've always fetishized it because of the hot Borders co-worker I lusted after continuously. Hell, I still lust after him and the last I saw him was randomly on the train for 5 minutes exactly 2 years ago. Maybe that's why I'm cutting my hair. I wish I could remember his last name so I could stalk him. He really was the most beautiful boy with whom I've ever had contact. Sure, there are lots of hot people walking around, but I don't often get to gave conversations with them and borrow their De La Soul tapes for months and months and months. I didn't mean to write about him. I should have never brought him up, because now I'm completely distracted. The point is he kept his head nearly shaved at all times, and I asked one time about cutting it, and he said he used no guard, but had the blade pushed up, so it left maybe a 1/4inch of hair. Oh my god, Dan was beautiful.

Last night I dreamt that I found a boy and kissed him. He was a law school student and I met him at a party of Melanie's. Not a party she threw, but a party she would take me to that would predominantly be made up of law school students. He thought I was a student, and seemed giddy to meet a law school student who was different from the rest. I remember him wearing a a red shirt with some sports team on it. He had longish hair, was a few inches taller than me, and had gangly legs though he wasn't super skinny. I remember kissing him while he was talking to me, and he continued to sort of talk while my lips touched his. He slowed his speech and seemed nervous and distracted -- not in the anxiety way, but more that my kiss distracted him from his talking and he was enjoying the moment. I stopped kissing him and felt guilty for doing this essentially in front of Melanie. I also felt slightly embarassed that he didn't immeidately start kissing me back, and worried that I had misread his signals.

He followed me into a bedroom of the apartment and started up again, though at that point I had decided we needed to meet elsewhere, after the party, away from the people. But I didn't try too hard to stop him when we started making out. I was also concerned that he was too young, since I couldn't remember how old he said he was. 18? 19? Did I care? Did it matter?

There was another interesting aspect of the dream. We didn't have sex, but it's almost as if I had an orgasm. Or at least, at one point I was extremely turned on, and in the the next scene I wasn't and felt slightly afterglow-y. Strange.

So yeah. Maybe I'll cut off all my hair tonight.

A different kind of high.

Thanks to a tip from Cedille and the use of People-Finder database on Westlaw, I believe Beautiful Borders Boy moved to New Jersey. So much for finding his apartment in Logan Square and loitering around outside.

I promise I'm not dangerous. Just persistent and intrepidly curious.

But the good news is that Cedille and I will hopefully be hanging out soon and swapping various stories about shared obsessions.

Speaking of loitering and obsessing, should I attempt to get into the Music Box premiere of the new Parker Posey movie (where she'll also be in attendance)? I'm not sure I'm in the mood to swindle my way in. At this point I prefer the company of Sophie and Buffy and getting my laundry done.

From the most lethal conglomerate on wax.....

I came out as queer officially in January or February (I can't really remember) of 1997. I didn't have a girlfriend at the time, and was actually rather pleased with myself that I was able to determine my sexual identity on my own and not basing it on a current partner. I went out a few times, kissed a few people, and for the most part started to actually date and whatnot. Many of these activities were irregular in structure, but whatever -- they worked and served a purpose and I enjoyed myself for the most part through the remainder of college. Most of the time I was probably quasi-single. Either in complicated partial relationships or dating someone casually (sometimes TOO casually but whatever). When I met Karen in December of 1998 I [thought I] was ready for the full-time full-fledged deal, so that's what we did. Hard and fast and quickly and intensely was the beginning of my first sort of textbook longterm relationship. It ended in August of 2000. I spent September relieved, just recovering and living alone and being with friends again. In October I flirted with a boy and in November we hooked up once or twice. In December I met Melanie.

All this means I haven't been completely 100% single and unhappy with the state of being alone in over 5 years.

I used to be the person who was always single. When did I become the person who's always dating someone?