Hannah Banjo

I fell asleep towards the end of a Skype session with my friend and woke up remembering fitful dreams of not passing my licensure exam for the second time.

I’ve been asked for updates on Lowell, and honestly I don’t have any. He’s trying to work things out with Jackie. I wish now he’d waited till Texas to tell her because at this rate, I probably won’t even get to say bye and the last time we fucked, our sexual chemistry was off because I’m assuming he couldn’t get his mind off her.

I get it though. I know what it’s like to want the person you love to want the same things you want. 

I’ve taken a look at some of the worst possible outcomes of this. One of them is that he drops me entirely to try and save his relationship with Jackie. I have made my peace with this resolution. I don’t think it’ll happen, but I’ve made my peace with it if it comes to that. Another terrible option is that one of us dies and somebody finds all my naked pictures before either of us can destroy the virtual evidence. 

Another sad scenario is that he’d just want to be only friends and we terminate our sexual relationship. For some reason, I feel like this one is really depressing. It isn’t even that the sex is mind-blowing amazing and I have this carnal desire for his body (I really don’t, and may or may not elaborate on this later), because I could totally still remain friends minus the sex. It’s just that I enjoy fucking my friends. Sex is this really intimate thing that can be made so much more enjoyable when it’s shared with people I really love and connect with. And this is a sentiment that he shares. 

Plus, how awesome is it to be able to just compare dicks from first-hand experience with your best friend? I know a lot of people don’t really get that. But the friends I have that understand this, they really just fucking get it.

There’s something entirely liberating about this whole fucking experience. 

Show Me - Alina Baraz & Galimatias

Sunset - The XX

I slept fitfully last night. I woke up from a nightmare where I had a couple eyelashes stuck to my eyeball. I opened my eye enough to examine the debris and when I went to brush it away, I ended up scraping out some of the gelatinous whites of my eyeball. 

Ma: Are you ready to see the Dead Sea Scrolls?

Me: Yeah. California Science Center, right?

Ma: Yes! They also have that big airplane there! I want to see it!

Me: Airplane?

Ma: The airplane! What's it called again? It was a big deal when it came to LA. NASA's airplane... The Endeavour!

Me: Uh, Ma. I think you mean the space shuttle?

Ma: Yeah, same thing. No?

Me: No.

Lowell is packing up all his shit for Texas and getting rid of a bunch of crap, so he let me raid his bookshelf and keep whatever I want. I was pulling The Greek Myths by Robert Graves onto my already large stack when he said, "Wait, I might need to think about that one." 

 Lowell and I have a love for mythology that I haven't really quite shared with anyone in some time. 

 "How about I make you a deal?" I placed the book on top of the stack and looked him in the eye, "If I move out to Texas, the book is yours." 

I showed up at Polonius’ place for the first time. He lives two stoplights away from me. I’m kind of in the mood to sneak out of the house right now and just get this shit out of my system, but I have half a mind to write about it. 

The place he stays is actually pretty nice as far as Pomona goes. There’s a lot of land and an in-law suite in the backyard where I left my dog. I brought my dog with me just in case I got myself into some shit, I wanted there to be some living thing to know where I was. 

Polonius is pretty short. He definitely gets his height from the Filipino side and I’m sure if he lived in the Philippines, he would be average height and hot shit. [It’s a little unfortunate because I feel like all the men I fuck are on the shorter side. Lowell says I want a big, tall man so that I’ll feel like a little lady, and he’s pretty right.] So he does the whole “Oh, this is my place, here is a thing, here is more things, do you want some water?” dance, but we both know why I’m over at his apartment an hour and a half before he heads out to work. 

The large inflatable mattress and spartan, dark room truly lacked a woman’s touch and couldn’t be any less inviting. Polonius wasted no time making out with me and I wasted no time grabbing a condom. [P.S. I use Crown. Porn stars use them, and I understand why.] His lips were kind of everywhere and our teeth kept doing that thing where they gnash together that turns me off faster than a maggot infestation. I guess I just got used to making out with Lowell. 

Here are three excellent Polonius quotes from that night:

1. Polonius says mid-makeout session, “By the way, I got a vasectomy. Last year. So it’s cool.” And I tell him, “That’s totally awesome! But we’re still using a condom.”

2. Before Polonius goes down on me he says, “I’ve never been with somebody of my own race.” And that is supposed to turn me on... how, exactly?

3. The deed is done quickly [it usually is when there’s a condom involved, let’s be real people]. And he says, “I totally wasn’t sure if you were coming over so I got off like three times when I was in the shower just thinking about you.” 

Sidebar: Air mattresses are not conducive to proper fucking because of physics. 

I had barely put my panties back on before we heard a rustling outside. Someone was entering the house.

“Is that your roommate?” I asked him. He ran to peer out the window from the air mattress, leaving me to sink in and all of the fat on my body to bounce up and down. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispers, “It’s my mom!”  “You didn’t tell me you live with your mom!”  “THAT’S BECAUSE I DON’T, SHE JUST VISITS FROM TIME TO TIME.” The fear in his voice of his Filipino mother was so palpable and even though I empathized to the nth degree, I couldn’t help but laugh my ass off as I got dressed. 

“Stay here while I handle this,” he was back in the military at this point. He was an army sergeant after all. Operation: Hide Hannah was a go. His mom, like most Filipino moms, sensed his bullshit immediately. It didn’t take her long before she was asking him, “Whose dog is this? Who is here, Polonius? Do you have a girl in your room?”

“No, mom! Of course not!” he said loudly. I was still sitting on his bed at this point getting my dress and shoes on. I took that as a cue to grab all my shit and hide in the closet and attempt to stop breathing.

“Then let me see your room!” I hid behind his open closet door as his mom inspected his room. Years of playing hide-and-seek as a child couldn’t have prepared me better for the most singular high-school post-coital ritual I have ever experienced in my entire life. My heart beat so loudly as I attempted to abate my breathing.

Polonius’ living quarters passed inspection and his mother left to rant at him from the kitchen, “All women are whores! All they want to do is take everything from you! Look at this bitch, making you late for work for watching her dog! You need to think about your child!” She went on to yell more about whores and bitches, all which was really enlightening in regards to her own character. What I found to be the most hilarious was that his mom would probably really like me. 

He got dressed for work while his mother continued to shout indecencies about women and he instructed me on the plan. He’d distract her, bring her outside, while I headed to the back to wait for him at the back gate. He’d come back for me and tell me what to do. I waited for the quiet after the front door slammed shut before I proceeded with caution to the back. 

I ended up walking around the block to grab my car and drove to the nearby CVS to grab my dog from him. 

To be sure, I promised him I would never ever let him live this down. 

Polonius apologized, “Fuck! This is so high school! You even look exactly like this girl from high school. She was fucking beautiful.” “Oh? She was the beautiful one?” I teased him. It took him much longer than I anticipated for him to get it. “No, no, you’re beautiful too. But everything about this is just so fucking high school.”