v u l v a l i c i o u s Out Out Out 2004-09-11 // 3:53 p.m. We're on the phone for hours, one awkward phrase to the next. But it's good, and we're laughing. I like not knowing with him. I like the way he slides into tangents. It ended abruptly, but left me feeling satisfied. Lately satisfaction doesn't visit much, so I consider our conversation a success. Two days earlier I talked for too long with someone else, and we tried to sort out what belongs where. It worked in my head. But there's a slip between theory and practice. I can't get the two to line up. Reading about SM, I think of her. Erotic scenarios only play out between the two of us; there's nobody else coming into my head right now. I want her, and I can't think of anything to say to her about it. I've already been honest. I've already told her that she holds me without realizing it, and that I can't think of other people when I go out anymore. She tells me she knows how it is, that she still has people who have that hold on her after years of separation. I don't want that with her or anyone. I want to own my fantasies again. I want to stop hearing her voice when I think of being told I'm going to get fucked. I want the simplest terms possible. I want all the complexity to drain out so that I'm left with a white box of nothing. I can hate that too, but it's a lot easier than hating her, hating this, hating things that have life and body and movement. back-forth