What’s it like to have a girlfriend? she asks.
Like having a boyfriend.
No, I mean, as a guy—what’s it like, as a guy, to have a girl.
Well, okay, when you’re a boy, girls are these awkward creatures that sort of make sense and sort of don’t. They throw funny. They run funny. They play funny. And then, one day, all those funny things make you hard, make you masturbate, make you lovesick for that funniness. And then, just when your heart is going to break with desire, one of those funny beings, become the most beautiful design you could imagine, looks at you as longingly as you as you at them. That is breathtaking.
I don’t. Watch new lovers. The boy can’t stop twirling the girl’s hair. He can’t stop touching her lips with his. He doesn’t trust his happiness. She’s everything he ever imagined all those days dreaming, masturbating, longing for the impossible. Now she wants to know if he imagines her when he masturbates. She wants to taste his cock. She was the flavor of him inside her. To him, a girlfriend is like a toy he’s always wanted and a miracle that makes his heart burst with affection and pride. She makes him unafraid to be a man—in his desire for her and as a lover.
She’s like an object to him?
Yes, like an object, like a miraculous work of art designed for us by nature. If the myth of Eden were true, then what was God’s last creation? Not Adam, but Eve. Woman. His final work—his last, most beautiful, and most creative act. And before he created woman, he had to first create a universe—as if in all its parts creation was nothing but a sketchbook, a working out of ideas before his last and perfect summation.
Jesus, will you just fuck me?
Do I deserve to?
I’ll make an exception.
Why does a woman ever let herself be fucked by the likes of men?
Because when you want me; when you won’t let me escape; when you take my clothes from me; when you suck at my breasts; when you make me open my legs; when you drive your cock into me again and again as though I were all you ever wanted; when you strain as though your orgasm could never possess me deeply enough, then I believe every word—you make me perfect, beautiful and a miracle.
····her eyes—the swirling Milky Way of my
Redbud | February 21 2017