I’m in love with every boy. Literally. Lately I fall in love more often than I take a shower. I’m constantly procuring new male obsessions–most of whom I barely know beyond a drunken encounter in nightclub or a vague internet friendship (and by ‘vague’ I mean we’ve never actually met, I just randomly discovered them during one of my extensive Facebook stalking sessions). You see, I’m currently trying out this new thing where I refrain from having casual sex with with every person I meet (a truly inspired idea, if I ever had one). It’s my lame attempt to stop using sex as a shortcut to intimacy or whatever, which has essentially been “my thing” for quite a while now. It’s going alright. However, this recent lack of sexual gratification has caused me to go to the other extreme completely, and I now fall totally in love with every moderately attractive, slightly malnourished looking boy I see. It’s pathetic.
My latest obsession is with a French kid called Julien. I met Julien at a house party this past weekend. Upon arriving I spotted him sitting alone in a corner, chain smoking cigarettes and fiddling with his jacket in a nervous, self-conscious sort of way. Hot. He fit the bill perfectly–freakishly thin, big nose, sunken eyes, a general look of torment, etc. At first I was scared to speak to him, but an hour later, when he still hadn’t moved from his corner, I decided to introduce myself. His English was pretty bad. Still, I managed to learn that his name is Julien, that he’s twenty, and that he moved to London from his hometown of Paris six months ago, looking to “find himself,” or something embarrassing like that. Geeky, but also kind of cute.
After a few minutes of clumsily attempting to hold a cohesive conversation, I eventually just gave in and shoved my tongue down his throat (one can always rely on the international language of love). We made out for a while, until I suddenly felt something wet on my face. I pulled away to find that while we were kissing Julien had gotten a bloody nose, smearing blood all over both our faces. He immediately apologized, ashamedly explaining that he has a chronic problem with nose bleeds. I told him that I didn’t mind, and that I was actually sort of into it, but I don’t think he understood me. In my head all I could think was OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU.
As the party ended we walked outside to catch our respective buses home. On the way he got yet another nose bleed, after which I cleaned the blood from his face with my tongue. Probably not the smartest idea, but it was just so sexy I couldn’t resist. I wanted him so bad. Like, you know when you want someone so intensely you feel like you could literally devour them? Like the only way to satisfy your urge would be to physically cut them open and exist inside their body? It was like that. However, like I said before, I’m trying out this whole “non-slut” thing at the moment, so I decided to save the dissection-sex-blood-fest until next time and just ask for his phone number instead. Wait, is this is the new me?
It’s weird to think that all every boy really is is just some skin wrapped around a bunch of weird looking junk. It sounds stupid but it’s true. So how come so many of them have the power to make me so dizzy and obsessed and utterly consumed?
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