Sugar Sage

i fucked three different men the weekend you told me you just want to be friends. i took down numbers, never names. i drank until i threw up. i only looked at people that looked nothing like you. i told myself that i was done with meaningless sex with strangers. but - the alternative means: meaningful sex with you. and well - there’s no choice here. i go through with the motions, sometimes it’s even nice, sometimes i could stand to call them ‘honey’, and sometimes in the dark, i could pretend it’s you. the scratch of a beard, the slope of broad shoulders, hands on my hips. “no talking,” i always warn. talking always ruin things. the after is the hardest: i feel numb and sad and tired. and i am relieved when they’re gone in the morning. i guess what i’m trying to say is - i am not doing so well for myself, honey.