No Fixed AddressPosted: May 12, 2014
I met a cute guy today at the bus stop. He had spiky black hair, olive skin, piercings and tattoos–all things that make me go Rawr. We made eye-contact a couple of times before we said hi. He told me his name, and I told him mine. He asked if I was from the city, and I said I’d just moved here. He said he lived here too. I asked if he lived close-by, and he said he goes wherever the wind takes him. He elaborated to state that he stays with different friends.
Ah. Of no fixed address. Really? I asked myself. Is this what it’s come to? Picking up homeless guys at the bus stop?
He asked why I moved to the city and I told him I’d moved for work. He asked who I was staying with and I told him I had an apartment. He was very impressed that I had both a secure place to live, and a job. Oy vey.
Then he asked “Do you have a man here too?”
I told him I did. We chatted a bit more, him talking about how he spends all day wandering the city, trying to make it sound bad-ass instead of just really sad, and then he said he’d ask for my number but his phone was stolen.
He wrote his name down on a piece of paper and gave it to me–told me to look him up on Facebook.
I took it, and smiled as he got onto his connecting bus.
The sad part? I actually did briefly consider looking him up. I mean sure, he’s going nowhere in life but that doesn’t mean he won’t be any good in the sack.
It’s clearly been way too long for me.
I am not a fan of my desperation. It’s taken a different form than in the beginning. I no longer feel like I can’t control my sexual impulses–I haven’t been trolling the internet for dates or dressing to get attention. I do know, though, that if I was in the right place, in the right state of mind, and someone attractive propositioned me, I would not say no. I am not looking for it, but I also wouldn’t turn it down. All I need is a dark club, loud music, and a wall to be pressed up against.
I did, however, ditch Mr. No-Fixed-Address’s info in the nearest trash can.