Writing Prompt: I feel afraid that I will die while spending time with someone I don't like.

Adrift In A Sea Of Flesh


by D. Jordan

I’m looking for you again, and I’m not even sure if you’re real.  I don’t think I ever met you, though you could be some friend or tertiary acquaintance.  My one, true love.  It has become almost cliché: True Love.  We live in a world of flesh where sex and image are the number one sellers.

Fuck somebody, suck somebody, BE somebody.  It makes me nostalgic.  I miss the thrill of taking a lady out and wondering if I would get a kiss.  I yearn to feel tension while reaching for a woman’s hand.  Can you help me?  I think I lost those feelings.  I’m just looking for someone to give them back.

It’s my own fault, I think.  I’m pretty sure I misplaced them sometime in college.  Maybe I set it down to let another sorostitute into my room.  I might have been too busy watching women flock to the men who treated them the worst.  Perhaps I just got too busy learning the game and how easy it really was.  I wish I knew; maybe I could go retrieve it.  It’s somewhere in yesterday, though, and that is a damn hard place to get back to.

So I decided not to look for it.  Instead I’m holding out on a one in a million chance that you’re out there.  I don’t know you.  I don’t know if your hair is black as onyx or as gold as a sunset.  I don’t know if you will be tall or short, quiet or loud.  I know you will have beautiful eyes.  I know you will be beautiful in mine.  I know you will make me stutter and tie my thoughts into knots.  I know I will love you, if you exist.

  

D. Jordan is looking forward to hitting something on an athletic field.  His favorite Sneakers are Dan Akroyd and Robert Redford.  You get a coolness point non gratis if you get that without having to look it up.