On Compliments

Your hands are clumsy as fuck.

But it’s been months and I think I need something.

I am tired and I hurt. I am physically broken and feeling weak.

And you’re there, and you’re not…terrible looking?

You tell me I’m gorgeous.

Not hot, not pretty, not sexy.

Gorgeous.

And I didn’t realize how nice it would be to hear that.

It’s so silly, isn’t it? How these trivial comments can mean so much, even when they come from the most ridiculous of sources.

And you can’t kiss for shit, your tongue like a dead snake in my mouth, but I know you want me. You want me in your bed, you want me to stay the night. And I tell you no, because this means nothing, and let’s not pretend it does. But, we can maybe try again tomorrow, when you’re a little more sober, a little more put together. It seemed like a terrible idea at the time. But, I agreed the next day. You’d meet me, we’d hang out.

You remembered absolutely nothing about me. I’m about 75% positive you only remembered my name because it was saved on your phone.

I had to repeat conversations multiple times. Remind you of basic facts about me. I didn’t expect you to remember my mother’s maiden name, but maybe me repeating the same fact about my career three times in the space of two hours wasn’t necessary?

I don’t know if the conversation or the whiskey killed more brain cells that night. And I want to say the sex saved it, but you half-heartedly pulling my hair while saying you can’t feel anything with a condom, somehow, amazingly, does not get my engine going.
I don’t need to hear you call me gorgeous.

I don’t need to hear your pretty words as you try to coax me to stay.

Because I never called you hot, or sexy, or gorgeous.

I knew what I wanted, and I took it. And it was disappointing, but it didn’t need to be anything earth shattering or world changing. We were two assholes paired together for a moment, never to see each other after that moment.

I will wash your sweat from my skin. Brush my teeth to remove your taste from my tongue.

Your ‘gorgeous’ is as meaningless as the water circling the drain.

And I’m realizing now that I need something more.