Kamino Deuce

Me: Good night.

(Kisses her on forehead. Walks to room to see it's locked with a rubber band on the door. Walks back to living room.)

Her: Was someone using your room?

Me: Yes. I hate when you say goodbye, then end up not leaving. It's like a ruined climax.

Her: Climax is saying goodbye the second time and making it more potent than the first.

(A door slams.)

Her: I think your room is now available.

Me: Good night.

(Kisses passionately.)

Her: I can't tell if you're stupid oblivious or extremely clever.

Me: Can't it be both? ;)

Her: Now you're definitely being stupid. What are you doing sleeping with three different women who live together?

Me: Having fun and exploring?

Her: Don't give me that rubbish. You know you're playing with fire right?

Me: I don't feel like going to the BDSM party, but I also have FOMO about it.

Her: FOMO?

Me: Fear Of Missing Out.

Her: Haha. For an infinite player, you sure get caught in some dumb finite games.

Me: Hey, I'm a work in progress. The idea of missing out on a good party makes me feel unproductive. Like I'm missing a significant moment.

Her: How about remembering that you ARE the party? Wherever you are now is the best place to be.

Me: That's nice to think, but they are probably going to have more fun at the BDSM thing than I will reading at home.

Her: When you give yourself permission to be fully present, you give others the present of being present with you.

Her: I'm resistant to fucking you because you seem to separate sex and intimacy, and I want both.

Me: Yes, I'm working on that. I want both with you too.

Her: I know that's your intention, but your intimacy is so heavily guarded. I feel like there isn't enough room for me in there.

Me: My intimacy is at least big enough for us two. It's probably the size of a closet.

Her: Mmm that's a exciting image. Yet, it could be bigger.

Me: Maybe I could expand my intimacy to the size of a hotel room.

Her: A hotel room is less sexy than a closet.

Me: Would you rather play 7 Minutes in Heaven?

Her: The fact that you would symbolize your intimacy with a hotel shows a lot about you.

Me: That I like miniature shampoo?

Her: No, that you see your love as something to just be rented for a night.

Me: You can have an extended stay.

Her: That's not the point. A woman doesn't want to be guest to your emotions. That's not intimacy, that's pandering.

Me: I think I understand.

Her: A closet is uncomfortable, but at least we're in there together.

Me: Pressed up against each other.

Him: It's all about vibes.

Me: Yeah. Like with some people it doesn't matter what words are exchanged. You can talk about nothing and really feel each other.

Him: It's like in singing. My choir teacher always told me that you don't really "hear" yourself sing. You sing, then process the sound after.

Me: So you feel the sound?

Him: More than that, you feel the note before you sing it.

Me: Yeah, when you hear a song and imitate it, you don't need to tune your voice. You hear it, then copy the exact notes...assuming you can sing.

Him: We do it with with speaking too. We don't think of the notes we hit when we speak but we're all in some sort of key. For two people to feel each other they have to be on key.

Me: Most people will sync up their tone of voice if they're connected.

Him: Yeah. When two people can really feel each other while singing, they can match each other's vibrato. The peaks of their notes get in sync and

Him: I have so much resistance to doing what I want to do. It's like I have my handbrake up.

Me: So you're driving with your handbrake up and it's wasting gas you could be using to drive forward faster.

Him: Yeah! That's exactly what it feels like.

Me: And you're wearing out your brakes, so you won't be able to stop cleanly when you really need to.

Him: Yes! Good insight.

Me: And you don't need to worry about rolling down a hill when you park.

Me: You feel like someone I would have jerked off to when I was twelve.

Her: Thank you. I worked ten years in a whack shack.

Me: A brothel?

Her: No, a whack shack is somewhere where men go to jerk off. I was there to get them jerk themselves off.

Me: Like you massaged them?

Her: No, I had a no touching rule. I'd stimulate a man's mind. Rubbing himself out at the end was just to bring himself down.

Her: A man who's a good lover should have a lot of women.

Her: My name?

Me: I can't use your real name because I may write personal things about you and I don't want you to sue me.

Her: Oh ok. How about "Aerion"? I want to be a galactic princess.

Me: Wait, no. It has to be a real name because my book is about my life and I live in the real world.

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