As I lie here in bed, it suddenly occurs to me that I miss the scent of a man. His subtle fragrance left on your pillow case that lingers long after his departure.
It’s been over a year since I’ve dated. That’s because someone I was seeing crossed a line in bed. It scared me. (If there is such a thing as karma, his dick should have fallen off by now.) Then it got really ugly and I had to rethink my choices. Like really getting to know someone before sleeping with them? So, I quietly stepped out of the game.
It’s not like I haven’t been busy trying to build a career.
I heard from “Prince Liam” in Florida again. It’s been three years since I’ve seen him.
Maybe I’ll just pick up some after shave or cologne…man in a bottle? But that’s the cowards way out. Or is it? One thing I’ve arrived at recently is, the beauty of masturbation is, the object of your desire never has to know he’s the object of your desire. No muss no fuss! (That may be a bit of an oversimplification. But I stand by it just the same.)