I went to the recording studio to see you, but when it was my turn to play, I didn't have the slightest idea what to bang out. I began to sing and play something sweet and simple and out of tune and you laughed. I could tell you didn't enjoy it but you told me it was lovely and I wanted to believe you.

I took a ride home with you and your girl, she was very nice but over protective. You told me that she wasn't your girl (I knew she was) and in fact, she supported that your and my (not our) getting together The next time I saw you, you drove me all the way home and in more ways than one. I must admit, I was more thrilled by kissing your lips than your cock, but c'est la vie. I knew what to do until you pulled it up to reveal what appeared to be a vagina. I was confused and I just smiled and hoped for the best and I think it was good for you, whereas it was mediocre at best for me. I thought we should try again, not on the couch in my basement, but you decided you had to depart, and that was that.

After you and I (not we) had sex (not fucked, not made love, remember the Lust Again Take, Pornography?), you didn't talk to me. Or hadn't talked to me, and I stole a piece of David Robbins's sweater and he was completely forgiving. He had other people give me the same part of their sweaters. He introduced me to Mike. Mike had no right arm. When I saw him I began to cry because...I don't know why. I wished you would talk to me, and Mike's arm was so sad and I felt guilty for ruining so many sweaters...

The Alarm woke me up and I cried for another ten minutes.