wanderingparis
Virgin
- Joined
- Jan 13, 2017
- Posts
- 13
More a complaint, perhaps. It happens to me again and again. Why do I have to carry the burden of other men's crimes against their women? Why when I meet someone in a Breton bistro in Paris or in a steamy wine bar in Knightsbridge or in a plastic hotel bar in Tribeca is it always the same? They take in my shirt, my hairstyle, and most insultingly my shoes and decide that it is already ordained by some relationship god that I will hurt them, that I offer only the possibility of a fling, a passionate one but a fling nonetheless? Life is not a dress rehearsal and I am not playing a part. Another exchange with so much false promise devolves into a hookup and I awaken unshaven, my pants on the hotel floor, alone and used?
