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She was getting really worked up, saying she looked like a little girl and it would be so itchy and miserable growing back and on top of it all she had thighves (that's thigh hives) from the insufferable heat and the walk back from Crown Heights. She was really getting irritating so I kissed her. Hard.
“We'll get through this,” I promised, half laughing. “I'm sure I'll love it just the same,” and as the words left my mouth I saw the muscles of her forehead constrict. Oh shit. I tried hard to back-pedal. “You need to get high. And we can rub some aloe on the spot and maybe ice it and I bet you'll feel better in the morning.” But the damage was done. She started in on me. “You'll love it just the same? How can you say that to me? How much have you ‘loved it' before? You've never even touched it!”
“Yeah, I know Liz, but it's not the most important thing, plenty of people don't have sex much̵some people just aren't all that sexual, right?”
“But I do want sex! I want to fuck you, but every time I start something you tell me it's too hot or you have too much on your mind or you're too drunk. Admit it, you think I'm disgusting.” “You know I'm just kind of...new to this kind of a relationship.” Oh shit oh shit, not a good start. “I want sex too, eventually. You know I think you're perfect. You know that.” It didn't sound convincing.
Liz walked to the fridge and came back to me, cracking a Bud Light Lime and visibly processing something.
“This isn't nice, but I think what you meant is that you'll love it just the same as all the dicks you've had, and I don't think you can do that. I don't know if I can keep doing this̵I don't think I can wait anymore for you to start wanting me.”
I sat for a few seconds, stunned, and then made a final, clumsy attempt to triage our hemorrhaging relationship. “It's hot, Liz. It's late and everything always seems worse at night. Seriously, I'll roll us a joint and we'll go out on the fire escape and we can talk about this tomorrow. We still have a whole weekend together̵we have that trip to the Cloisters on Sunday.”
She let me get her high, had a few more beers and let me feed her two Benadryll to stop the itching. Eventually she slept̵aggressive as always, but things were quiet and I had time to prepare.
And now the decisive moment is upon me ̵8:20 AM, I've finally got the leg of my dreams out of my head and Liz is on her side next to me̵one breast exposed over the bust-line of the polyester slip she fell asleep in, eyes glued shut with mascara crust. I can see her top front teeth̵they don't match in color or thickness because one is made of porcelain. She really is beautiful, but I can't see any of that right now. Her breast is stretch-marked, her nipple is soft and her areola as large as a slice of pepperoni. She's still sleeping densely with a head full of antihistamines and I'm faced with a tough reality̵I need to prove to Liz that our relationship isn't a lie. I need to eat pussy. It's now or never and never would mean a complicated series of emotional discussions about oppression theory and queer theory and a fairly inconvenient move to a different studio with about half the furniture and twice the rent.