10:21 p.m. - December 22, 2004
We talked for a while and surprisingly, he asked why I had pulled back. Surprising because Ryan's depth is limited to a too-tight Abercrombie & Bitch or American Minion t-shirt, but we had a decent conversation not exactly about My Issues but how I misread people and their intentions / words / everything too often. Later, the inner slut came out to play and we messed around some: A happy ending for him, only slighter-than-usual discomfort for me.
Something he mentioned struck a nerve. I frustrate/d him when I negate the things he says, as if I think he's lying or trying to make me feel better when he gives me a compliment. For me it's all-or-nothing and my uglies obliterate the not-so-ugly. Ryan likes my smile, my skin, my eyes - but come on, how can he not be repulsed when he looks below my neck? Hmm. Maybe he doesn't. See my thinking? Point is, we had a good conversation and I got him off. You compliment me, I swallow: A straight-forward exchange.
It is gratifying though when he talks about my cock. Nations don't bow down but it is thicker than most and I guarantee two or more large loads back to back. Whip the rest of me into shape and I'll star on my own DVD under your Christmas tree.
When a gay man says You should call me more often does he mean it? I should stop thinking that doing so is a collect booty call.
This afternoon was a cookies and cream day. Literally!