Firecrotch

I had dreams last night. And when I woke up, I realized that it’s been a while since I wrote about my dreams here. I’ll try, although I believe I may have forgotten the point of them. Again, I’m starting in the middle, maybe close to the end, and we’ll see what comes of it.

I was in a hotel room, with white sheets on the bed, and a sedate, neutral, yet spacious theme. There was one wall of windows, and outside I could feel that there would have been a great view, I was on a high floor, but it was dark outside and the window was covered by a billowy beige sheer curtain.

I have a feeling that I have dreamed of this hotel before, and that I was supposed to meet someone there. The sheets were in a mild disarray, as though I had not gotten a chance to uncover the sheets underneath before rolling around on top of them. Maybe it wasn’t me who had just used the room.

I remember it was 6 o clock.

I also somehow knew – did we all check in together? – that this was a party the likes of which we1 have had before.

My mother came in – I do not capitalize mother because the person who came in was not really my mother, but the mother of Love in the second season of You2. She explained that we were all going to dinner, but she didn’t really like the restaurant chosen. I suggested that we go and just have a drink and appetizer, and then kick off to a better place. I remember her looking at her phone, trying to choose a place, showing me an option, but there wasn’t anything that looked good.

We, all the ladies and gentlemen, gathered outside the hotel. There was idle chatter, the host3 of the party (who I only remember his voice, not actually seeing him) had annoyingly tried to control the scenario by suggesting that we all sit with whoever we’d like, and then switch an hour through so that we could mingle. My mother and I, not really my mother and now I’m beginning to maybe see what my brain meant by this, were still looking for another restaurant, even as we got into the elegant black cars that were supposed to cart us across the city to the restaurant.

We got to the restaurant, and it was large and expansive, a grand dining room with balconies and sweeping staircases. The tables were all so far apart – maybe my brain has fully internalized covid protocols – and men in suits chatted enthusiastically with ladies in cocktail dresses who pretended to be interested4

As I had no date, and neither did my mother (I wonder who my brain was trying to represent, I believe I may know) we sat at a larger table in the center of the room, perhaps indicating our availability, and we drank a nondescript, undelicious cocktail and ordered an appetizer of barbecued pork something. The other restaurants that we were looking at looked mediocre, and we had already had pork. The phone said that it was now 7:44.

Perhaps it was something about us, but no one approached us or talked to us. I don’t think we minded, but I do know that I noticed.

I don’t think we ever left the restaurant.

1. By we, I mean my esteemed colleagues. I know what I mean. 2. There is a man I was speaking to, primarily for revenge against a former friend, that recently picked up the show. I should see if he finished. I should maintain social contacts. 3. This guy is an interesting character… socially inept, he uses these parties as his access to the social scene. Too bad he regards his own social status and contribution so highly, it’s made him an asshole and ruined the standing he had hoped to achieve. There’s a lesson in that for me… 4. The reason that I am so successful in my line of work is that I am a better actress than most. I really get into the technical aspects of what it looks like to display emotion and affect, even down to the biofeedback necessary to dilate pupils and induce a skin flush. I wonder if I still have conscious control over the blind pupil.

Of course, there was more preceding this dream segment, but I’m willing to let it go. I find dreams about work to be uninspiring. Although…

Last night, before I finally got myself into bed, I saw a board post referencing one of these parties, and one of the best parties, by a beautiful redhead who I am debating linking to this post, but she may actually follow the click back and that would be devastating (probably why I want to do it so badly). I think I’m going to do it, but we’ll see. I suppose everything is opening back up, and it’s time to see which of my sequin cocktail dresses fit. Fortunately, I feel like enough has happened that no one will mind if I wear the same dress twice.

I hate talking about work because it’s so shallow. The boy invited me out on another one of his work outings tomorrow, at the same time that my academic friend wanted to talk about actual things of substance. What does it say about me that I’m going to cancel our discussion on structural chem to go sit around and watch the boy awkwardly talk about work at the bar instead of spend my time with someone who actually values me for an actual part (no one could handle the whole) of my personality? The boy hates how smart I am, it alienates him. He doesn’t even watch the news, I have no idea how someone could have their head so far up their ass.

I feel like every time I fuck him, it’s a hate fuck. Me hating myself. Me resenting myself for being so awesome.

But does he eat pussy?

I have to see this man on Monday, I’m behind on emailing him, but I am looking forward to it. I will fuck the boy on the bed the night before and send him home, and then this man will come over and I will tell him all about it, and he will love that. And he will fuck me better.

On Friday, I am considering wearing an excellent coat – I’m a Capricorn, goddamnit – that I incidentally bought for a dollar in the same city where this beautiful redhead is from. The matching boots, I actually got after the following party at the same location where I got to see her gorgeous red bush.

I have no business being this horny on a Thursday.

I’ve actually been worried about my sexuality lately…

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