(KMFDF) #25

KMFDF

my first sexual experiences weren’t the stuff of legend or of trauma. sure, a little baggage from my teenage years may add sexy mystique to my current romantic situations or, maybe not. regardless, i had spent a lot of time kissing and other-ing with other girls and hadn’t ever really thought much about other-ing with boys. there was the french canadian first kiss and crushes here and there, sure, but i will forever remember the day that i definitely and forcefully wanted to FUCK a boy. don’t ask me his name because i’ll never be able to tell you, and it doesn’t really matter anyway. she was there, and i remember her name, and she wanted to hang out in her room but he was there and he was wearing KMFDM t-shirt.

the truth is, i’ve never listened to KMFDF, even now, more than twice as old as i was then and all i know is that they are some sort of industrial goth band thing. so there he was, KMFDF, he had brown hair and glasses and was possibly the most usual looking person i’d seen all week. he was my age and certainly not smarter than me but his tshirt told me that there was something mythical about him, something bad ass and different from all the boys i saw every day-all the boys in their tear-aways and basketball shorts and bad skin. i imagined him taking my hand and telling me it wouldn’t hurt, and sliding on top of me and kissing me and sneaking his hand down below into the unknown parts…and i WANTED it.

KMFDF.

nothing ever happened between us-i was too shy and he was wearing a KMFDF t-shirt and i was really only like nirvana at the time. it was a lifetime before a boy knew me the way i desired that boy to know me once upon a time. but goddamn it! i’ll never remember his name (kyle?) but i’ll never forget that first glowing, bright ache-not ever.

#26

we sit on a park bench and we smoke and we talk about the weather and our cats and our shoes and who spent more money on the other’s birthday present and the truth is, when i look at you now, after all these years i want nothing more-NOTHING more-than to punch you.

is that awful. i suspect it’s probably awful. i used to love you and i’ve become exceptionally good at pretending i still love you. god. there isn’t even a child keeping me here. i think i just really love the shoes you bought me for christmas last year and you always order just perfectly for me when we go for sushi. i’d hate to have to look for that all over again.

so, park bench and cigarettes it is. it could be worse, i could have to have sex with you…