There’s a hollowness about sex—there can get to be. You can avoid it. You can maintain it sweet, you can maintain it pure..it’s just a lot a lot of work. Because you do get used to their underwear. And their shaving cream and their favorite lunch meat. Those were all tiny little pieces of information that were new to you at one point. Of course you knew that corned beef was a lunchmeat, before meeting that certain someone..you just never thought about it like that. As a good choice..as the right choice. Somehow this person, in moving around in the world and making sandwiches and learning how to eat lunch, has found such an optimal choice of lunchmeat..something you were unable to find..or not ready to find! But now you are! Corned beef is truly the best choice for lunchmeat, as is that certain kind of sandwich bread—the kind you had been getting before is too hard! It’s too hard to chew. This bread is much better. It says “sandwich bread” on the package for god damn! The bread I’ve been buying doesn’t even say “sandwich bread”. That bread was good for my sandwiches—you know, honey and butter—but for corned beef and mayo this bread is ideal. This is the bread. This one right here. Why does anyone do it any other way?
And then you eat that kind of sandwich for a while.
And it just becomes bread.
It’s just: the kind of shaving cream we always get. The kind that’s in my shower.
It’s just: the way we do it, with the vibrator on your clit and you sitting on top of me and then me fucking you from behind while you smile blissfully with your face pressed against the sheets. Then I come on your back and then you get up and then I fall asleep and then you put the sheets over me so I’m not sleeping naked and then I have dreams about dogs biting me who won’t let go and their teeth! and then I wake up sometime in the middle of the afternoon with afternoon sun shining in my eyes and I push off the sheets and I go in the next room past the bathroom with all the usual shaving cream and I find you in the craft room and I wonder why I don’t sneak a few of my clothes home with me this time when I go and you look at me thinking these things, which I’m sure you think as well, and then you reach for the craft knife and you’re cutting identical strips of iconic bears into the side of..side of..something..a cup holder for your mother..I don’t know..