April 7th 2010.

I found a well of old journal entries. Enjoy these pieces, I got a good laugh. When I publish them all together, so many will laugh. I look forward to that positive energy.

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It was his ego that signed the deal, but who thought it would bring me this far?

When I first met him, in one of those customary pothead "session" settings, he spent a good hour talking about himself, and how amazing he was, how hot he was, how cool he was, the list goes on and I had never met anyone so blatantly egotistical before.

I mean I knew some cocky niggas but this guys own was just in an excessive amount and it was so fascinating. He was attractive and dressed like an ex of mine which fed my own vanity quite heartily, but most of all I liked the way he carried himself. The way he stood, the way he walked, it was a trait I found very sexy, a trait I almost always look for, a trait that'll make you instantly fuckable. So the first night I met him I just watched, the first time I meet anyone I observe them first, and calculate how I could interact with them. I knew, looking at this boy, that I wanted to fuck him, but what else did I want?

That ego was begging for a mind fuck.

But then how would I set it up?

I was in between boyfriends at the time, and obsessed with my work, this passing attraction meant absolutely nothing to me in the long run, so I left the room with the knowledge that I would eventually destroy this boy, if and when I ever got around to it.

A couple of weeks pass and my interest wains, I asked about him often but did nothing with the information that was given to me, to be honest I just couldn't be bothered, there was too much in my own life for me to add more weight to it.

Then I started seeing him more often, and his name became apart of my daily life. We all smoked you see? And in this country smokers generally stick and smoke together, so needless to say he came by a lot. But again I didn't think much of it, I knew a lot of smokers, besides we never really spoke to one another, we just smoked together.

One day he spoke to me, and it took me by surprise, that may have been my first fuck up, I was content at the time, not interested in fostering any new relationships really, at least any that involved constant work on my part. I've always enjoyed the fall in your lap type of friendships. One that require little work, and little upkeep, so when he offered what I assumed to be a green light in the one sentence "We should hang out" I was actually pleasantly surprised.

So he liked simplicity as well.

I paid closer attention to him after that and continued to be pleasantly surprised. All of a sudden this boy transformed from a quick fuck to a friend in 5 seconds flat all because of one simple conversation. The first real conversation I think we ever had just between the both of us. I guess that day he saw my horns, he saw right through everything I said, all the cards I played, it was half exasperating half exciting, I'd never played the game with anyone who also knew the game existed before.

It was different, and I became nostalgic for America, because it was only there that I ever really had relationships like this. Where I had friends, not love sick idiots. And the idea that I could attain this sort of social and sexual peace in my home country stimulated me in brand new ways.

But will my life ever be that simple?

Of course not.

The settings were perfect, I had found my friends with benefits candidate, foreign enough for me to remain attracted to him, and intelligent enough to catch all my tricks and lies but still allows me to employ the use of them? Absolutely perfect.

Except not.

In this great package deal there was one fatal flaw, one fatal flaw I could never have foreseen to have even been a possibility in this boys life.

He couldn't get it up.

And no, not he couldn't get it up in general, he couldn't get it up for Franky Acolatse, and only Franky Acolatse. Now since this had never happened to me before, I dealt with it pretty well at first, I had opened a new door for him sexually so maybe his body just wasn't ready for anymore so quickly, I've always been a glass half full type of girl, and my optimism saturated itself deep into the situation.

That was until it happened again, and again, and again.

We talked about it as best we could, he claimed that he had been trying other girls and his penis then worked just fine, he said that it only fucked up in relation to me, and I know he wasn't trying to blame me but it was a puzzle I couldn't solve and it incontrovertibly pissed me the fuck off. We stopped fucking for a while, both of us emotionally strained by these foreign events and simply hung out instead. He was a cool guy you know? An actual friend, someone I could have a conversation with and someone who knew when I was faking. That was important to me, because almost no one could tell, no one even questioned if I even retained the ability to lie. And the fact that I could completely be myself around this guy comforted me in new ways.

Ways I still don't feel comfortable exploring.

Because if I delve into these ways I may find that I'm a lot more emotionally attached now because of all this trauma. I went into this with the express intent of mind fucking and physically fucking like a rabbit, all I got to do was mind fuck. Something unfamiliar to me once more. I would actually go see him just to hang out, a very dangerous destination for a fragile ego.

It happened again yesterday, it would work for a little, he'd attempt to fuck me and then it'd go soft inside of me. Absolutely horrifying. I knew I shouldn't have fucked him, I knew I wasn't ready but Franky is never scared right?

It's fucked with me. It's fucked with me in the worst way. I'm dismayed. And when I think about him, think about the whole situation, it's upsetting, it's terrifying, if I was high enough I would probably cry.

Because after the sexual disaster, we sat and talked. I know so much about him now, stuff I'm sure the regular female isn't privy too, or perhaps I've just told myself that to make me feel better about the Melting Moments in our sex life. Maybe I deluded myself into thinking that I was important outside of the sexual realm to make up for my failure within it.

And it worried me.

That this situation could have inadvertently given me a complex. A severe and sexual complex. My sex life is one of the few things I really and truly enjoy in the world of social interaction, and if that is compromised it may change my very way of life, it may unravel my very soul, or even worse, it may make me utterly fucking miserable.

So what should I do? I don't know how to relay this too him, how do I say;

"I'm worried that we may have gotten closer outside of sex, which would be cool if our closeness inside of sex were at the same level of intensity, it's not, so at this point I'm putting a lot of emotions into this, and if there is one thing I will never forget, I have a vagina, and no matter how unemotional I can be, said vagina can produce certain hormones or pheromones that could fuck with my brain and turn me into a crying and blubbering mess, all because your dick doesn't work."

I think right now I may be trying to console myself into thinking that I am somehow special to him, if I was somehow special to him on an emotional front the laceration on my sex life may begin to heal. I don't really want him on that level, but I want to be important, I want to be indispensable, I think that may be the only way to make up for the physical fuckery.

But again, how the fuck do I tell him that?

"Hey listen, since your dick doesn't work for me it's fucked with my head, and all in all my interaction with boys is a basic battle, and you haven't given me a victory so I'm feeling very empty, feeling very unimportant, I haven't felt this way since high school and I'd like for you to fix it, I mean we're friends right? Aside from the sex, am I important to you? Or are you just using me for my pussy and my music? Which would've been okay, if YOUR DICK WAS WORKING, I'm sure you understand where I'm coming from, so what say you?"

And I like kissing him, which is disturbing, because we haven't had a normal sex life, I should hate all things sexual with him at this point of our relationship, but the fact that I don't see kissing him as something that sexual also greatly troubles me.

Because I don't know when all of this will end.
And I don't know how I'll take it.