that's my new tat and i am so fucking stoked about it i want to shag all of you one by one by one and then by twos.
however, something happened in between the tat and tonight that truly disturbed me and made me question my inherently heterosexual sexuality. despite the beefy tat and manly arm holding that manly ink, something was, well, um, lacking. it wasn't so much that a yearning overtook me for no reason. what actually happened was a "present" fell into my lap, so to speak. a certain friend of mine forgot to take his hat with him one night when he suddenly jumped up and left the bar. for no apparant reason. for no discernable reason. no je ne se qois that i know. jump and run.
so, we looked at his hat. we looked at each other. we looked at his hat. we looked at each other. we looked at his bar tab. we looked the other way. we casually exited the bar . i ended up with the "Hat". i took it home. i made sweet love to it. i kissed it goodnight. i slept well for the first time in a month. when i awoke i made sweet love to it again. then i cooked it pancakes. then it bade me goodbye and disappeared. i thought i would make it through and live with the memory of that hat clutched between my tight toes. it never came back and i am left with that memory. and only that. i am not resentful or bitter. but i can't help but wonder what might have been
happy hnt, y'all.