Crow’s Scratches

she kissed us both… Alisson still hates me… my balls still haven’t come down out of my torso…

"i thought you said this was going to be a rave!" i yelled over the pounding of the gigantic speakers. all around us, the sight of people younger than myself, and maybe too young to be drinking or smoking whatever it is they’re smoking. and the dancing… well that’s just something else. she said it was going to be a rave to ring in the new year, with friends. as usual, Wren says one thing about a place and when you get there it turns out to be something else. most of the time, it turns out to be a pretty good something else, so i’ll reserve judgement for now.

"i didn’t think it was going to get hijacked! but how can you complain? open your eyes, man! you’ll be glad i got you to leave the house this time!" Wren replied, bouncing her way towards the crowd. a palm’s grip, knuckles, finger-tips… she’s gone… adrift in a sea of haze and warm bodies and pulsating lights harsh enough to trigger seizures in the most healthy of individuals. we can’t get separated… this isn’t going to be like the last time. i try to follow the wildly swinging unbraided pony tail as it rhythmically pops over the head of the crowd and disappears again. useless excuse me’s and pardon me’s… the music is too loud for it to make any difference. one person actually told me the portable toilets are behind the DJ’s perch; another replied with a mildly slurred ‘we all feelin’ free’. she’s stopped and i’m close enough to get a hold of her so i shoot out my hand to grab her arm and catch Alisson instead.

"what the fuck is he doing here?" she questions Wren. she’s not at all pleased with my presence and doesn’t even try to hide it.
"you’re both in my life now and i don’t plan on severing old ties simply because you can’t stand each other," Wren replies.
"oh, i don’t hate her, you know. i’ve got no problem with her; she’s the one hating on me," i chime, pointing at Alisson with double-barreled fingers. Alisson responds by blowing cigarette smoke in my face while stepping real close to stare me down. she’s ready to throwdown but i’d rather chill. i don’t want to ring in the new year with a fresh set of bruises. Alie may be petit but her soft form hides some serious muscle, and i know first hand just how effective kung-fu is in the arsenal of a jealous ex-girlfriend.

"okay okay," Wren interrupts. "why don’t i just fetch us something to drink?" she scans both our faces for a response, rolls her eyes and sighs exasperatedly while disappearing into the crowd again.
"you’re only a phase for her, you know that. she’ll never really leave me," Alisson threatens, taking a drag of her cigarette. "she still calls me at night. we still talk for hours. we have an ‘established’ rapport. you can’t break that bond," she continued.
"i know she won’t. she explained the whole thing to me last week. i have no intention of getting in between you two. i’d be a hypocrite and it wouldn’t be in her nature to do that to you. she’s too loyal, even though you can be a damn psycho about it," i explain. she freezes in mid-motion, bringing the cigarette only halfway to her mouth. confusion and disbelief ‘graffiti’d’ all over her face.
"is this some kind of trick? are you trying to jedi mind-trick me or something? i swear i’ll fucking cut you," she responds dropping her cigarette to the ground while with the other hand simultaneously reaching into her back pocket…

"drinks iz herre!" Wren chimes just in time. Alisson stops and feigns a smile while still staring me down in the corner of her eye. "i got you a cranberry something-or-the-other. there might be alcohol in it but not too much to annoy you. sowwy," she continued.
"cranberry? what are you on your period or something?" Alisson wryly yells, as if to get the attention of as many people as possible. it wasn’t the music… she looked around for eyes but no one could have cared what was going on in our little pocket of the crowd, they were just having too much fun for any of our drama to matter.
"i don’t really drink, so…" i respond. she gets that confused look again and takes a swig of her… i don’t know what the hell she’s drinking. it’s green, but beyond that i’m clueless. must be her favorite drink because she gives Wren an approving look after her first swallow.
"you remembered! you remembered!" Alisson squeals. she brushes her hand along the length of Wren’s shoulder, just to get to me.
"how could i forget!" Wren replies and the two break out into a cute little song and dance, possibly recalling the event where that green drink originated. i can only assume.

"so what’s been going on since i left. you two looked pretty serious. am i going to have to referee again?" Wren jokes. her smile quickly dissipates when she sees Alisson’s expression. "oh come on!! look, if you two can’t make nice i’m going to have to make new ‘friends’ and drop you both. you’re seriously damaging my aura with your constant hostility towards each other, and keeping me from getting effectively stoned," Wren complained. perhaps she does actually care to keep both of us in her ‘circle’. at some point Alie and i are going to have to bury the hatchet.

"alright everybody! it’s about that time!" the DJ shouts out over a bull-horn. all three of us glance down at our time-pieces… Alisson checks her watch, i check my phone and Wren consults her pocket-watch. minutes to midnight. "let’s do this!" the DJ exclaims while switching to a driving drum beat seemingly aimed at building tension. "10… 9…" he starts…

"8…" the crowd joins in.
"7…" Wren joins in. both Alisson and i just feel to ourselves she’s going to kiss the closest one of us when ‘the ball drops’.
"6…" pushing and shoving ensues as we try to get closer to her.
"5…" i try to restrain her hands…
"4…" she grunts and knees me in the crotch. i keel over for a moment…
"3…" well i thought it would be a moment but DAMN! THAT REALLY HURT! i thought it was only painful in the movies, but she must have gotten her knee all the way into my stomach.
"2…" she turns her back on me and quickly fixes her hair. she drapes her arm around Wren’s shoulder and joins in with her at the last second…
"1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!" everyone erupts. the crowd throws their empty cups and confetti into the air and the music changes to a techno-inspired ‘Auld Lang Syne’.

as expected Wren turns to Alisson and plants a long drawn out kiss on her lips. fireworks going off in the background, it looked like Alisson won. was there tongue in there? Alisson flips me ‘the bird’ while they’re doing it. she’s working extra-hard to get on my nerves. i totally missed the boat. they break, Wren turns and sees me rising to my feet and plants a long drawn out kiss on my lips. yep, there was totally tongue. i return Alisson the favour of a one fingered salute times 2 as i flip both fingers in her direction. she grabs her crotch and mouths ‘eat me’.

she kissed us both… Alisson still hates me… my balls still haven’t come down out of my torso…

this year is going to be even more interesting…

spoon.

that’s how this one starts… spooning this gorgeous olive-skinned beauty, my left arm pinned under her slender neck. an ornate glyph-like tattoo on the back of her neck (a bridal tattoo?)… i’m facing the back of her head and she’s fast asleep, tired from an exciting night out. the details are fuzzy (was i drunk?) but i know i had fun too. that ache in my crotch… yeah, i definitely had fun. my stomach grumbles and i’m inspired to leave the bed and fix some grub. my arm is completely asleep too; i can move my fingers but i can’t quite feel them. i slip my arm from under her, careful not to wake her, while simultaneously easing my pillow to take its place.

finally free, i roll out of the bed and stretch; there’s a warm golden light pouring through an enormous ceiling to floor sliding glass door. beyond the wooden deck and railing past it, a vast expanse of water. the sun reflects harshly off the surface and hurts my eyes, but it’s hard to turn away from the spectacle. then it hits me: this isn’t the rising sun, this sun is setting! have we been asleep the entire day? massaging the blood back into my arm i walk out the door and breathe in deep… salty air fills my lungs. this isn’t my place; i couldn’t afford a house like this. it seems as though the house is actually in the middle of the ocean. what a ridiculous thought. a house in the middle of the ocean… houses don’t sit motionless on water…

i step back inside and take another look at her: long, straight, black hair, thick eyebrows and dark skin. she seems to glow a glorious golden colour in the evening sun. full lips just slightly parted, i can barely make out her front teeth. tracing her length with my eyes, i follow her form down. sleeveless white vest. she doesn’t wear a bra and i can make out the details of her bosom through the fabric. she’s not terribly stacked. her breasts are modest. she has strange crisscrossed glyphs tattooed on her upper arms, and silver and gold rings on her fingers. i check for the most important one… a naked finger… i sigh with relief inside my head. her mid-section is covered by the bed sheets, but not too much for me to notice she’s wearing white cotton boyshorts… they enhance the appearance of her stem-like legs. tiny toes (very edible) ‘decorated’ with silver rings complete the tour of her form. what’s this goddess’s name? something with a N, or L… or maybe an A… i can’t remember. maybe i should find a wallet so i kno….. my stomach grumbles again… i’ll play detective later.

there’s a door to my right and i head for it on tip-toes… i step out of the bedroom into a very dark hallway. it seems that all that light in the room came from the open door. light at the end of the ‘tunnel’… i follow with my arms akimbo. the wall feels textured, but i can’t quite make out the details. it feels like papyrus or something similar… on the way i meet a door on my right. i fish for a handle and try it. it opens to a bathroom with a toilet and bidet. it’s all porcelain-like. the room is clinically white but at the same time very inviting. stepping in further i notice that golden glow again to my right. the bathroom is connected to the bedroom. i peer in to see her still asleep. she’s barely moved a muscle. must have indeed been a great night. i relieve myself, wash up and head out again, continuing down the corridor towards the source of the light.

the kitchen, finally. i stumble while entering the sunken room. more white walls and porcelain accents. she has all her pots hanging overhead. counter-top stove, dishwasher (is she lazy?), tall but skinny refrigerator… i head to that first. let’s see here: chocolate, chocolate, chocolate, chèvre cheese, liverwurst, yogurt, foreign beer, sauvignon blanc (remember for later), something that looks like game hen, wine with a name probably no one can pronounce, and a door littered with jars of random condiments. this girl has expensive taste. hmm, creamed honey. i could do something with that. grab the heavy cream for tea, maybe the palm sugar. i dump them on the counter and examine the counters. a loaf of bread, a healthy looking orange, a lemon to wedge for the tea, a jar of ground coffee… guess the tea plan is off… ah! tea. Yellow Label, she’s into classics. alright, let’s get this going.

i can’t for the life of me figure out why anyone would want to define the act of intercourse as "making love". i find it to be quite a retarded way of thinking. the linking of one’s emotional state with a physical activity is strange at best, though not exclusively incorrect.

i enjoy hugs. i’d go as far as to say that hugs ROCK! i’m not sure how many people ever noticed it, but everytime i hug someone, anyone, regardless of gender, i close my eyes and soak it in.  automatically. it’s my vice, if one can call hugging a vice. i take them every chance i get. just ask Ana-Lucia how annoying my need to maul her for hugs is. she always tries to flee but i get my squeeze-time in. always.

it may sound creepy to you but i just really love hugging. i love it more than kissing and ‘making-out’ (what is making-out really?), and hugging often gets more points than say having sex. squeeze me while you’re hugging me, and i’ll be trying to find all means of getting back in your arms.

which brings me to the topic at hand, sex and romance. many people can tell you all sorts of things on the subject of romance and what romance entails, and what constitutes being romantic or a romantic. many people will also tell you that romance has absolutely nothing to do with sex, and that the two are mutually exclusive.

[rant]
i honestly don’t see what the problem is here, and why the two do in fact have to be separate activities. why can’t i be romantic with my face between her legs, or why can’t a woman be romantic with a cock in her mouth? are handjobs not romantic? how about fisting? can’t one be romantic while defiling their lover and talking dirty in the bedroom? and who’s to say that a hardcore alley-fuck creampie isn’t the most romantic thing on the planet?

and on that subject, sex in my book really isn’t the same as fucking. sex is that thing that married people do once a week, usually on Fridays. you schedule time to make it happen and you usually have to butter-up your spouse with food and alcoholic beverages to make it happen. it’s the reason wine coolers were invented i believe, as i am yet to hear of any unmarried woman claim to enjoy the occasional wine cooler the way one may enjoy the occasional scotch or glass of brandy or even a beer. in this context, they aren’t really "making love", the husband wants to "bust a nut" and the wife figures if she doesn’t facilitate she’d be deemed a bad wife. if the reverse ever happens, the wife has and itch and the husband is always glad to scratch it, mainly because he’s a man. pathetic.

fucking, however, is that thing you do when you just want to get off; fucking is when you pretty much find the nearest warm body to act as substitute for your fingers/hand/fist/sex-toy/etc. the saying does go "Mom I’d Love to Fuck" and not "Mom I’d Love to Have Sex With".
[/rant]

but i digress. the true purpose of the question mark in the subject of this entry is the fact that people seem to think that you need to be in love to have sex, and that the purpose of romance is to make someone fall in love with you. after re-analyzing the act of sexual intercourse, i’m still confused as to why anyone would find it remotely romantic. honestly now, achieving and erection so you can shove-n-retract it repeatedly until orgasm… please point out the part where your emotions come into play. i know right now you’re thinking that orgasm is supposed to be a deeply emotional experience but so should be peeing or making poop, not ‘making woopie’.

[EDIT]
hey. so after thinking about this a little more, i think that "making love" is in fact some activity that people the world over have for some reason associated with the act of sexual intercourse, which i still believe is just plain fucking (regardless of one’s emotional connection with the other).

perhaps the connection was made back when sexual intercourse was still considered a deeply personal activity that required a level of intimacy for it to actually happen. i believe that whatever this ‘activity’ is, one can most likely ‘make love’ without having sexual relations of any kind. i could be as simple as a tender touch or maybe the sweet nothings couples exchange.

don’t beat yourself up over it. like the quote above says, don’t expect love to enhance sex. it may seem like a bonus to some but in the end, it’s just a physical activity, with foreplay being pretty much fluffing your partner.

it just seems to me to be a very irresponsible practice to program people into thinking that sex is enhanced somehow by love or the state of being in love. it’s like telling little children that Santa Claus is real, or the tooth fairy is coming to give you coin for teeth.
[/EDIT]