I hooked up with an old fuck buddy the other night – a gorgeous 28 year old boy with wavy Hollywood hair and eyes so dark and hooded they could turn a hetro boy queer. His name is Scorpio (I swear it’s his real name) and when I met him a few years back, he was trying to make it as an actor/model – he now works on Wall Street.
He came over at 1am – drunk. His hair was messy and he smelled of stale beer and cigarettes – and he wasn’t wearing underwear.
Why did I let him in? I guess the three devils of Manhattan - bored, lonely and horny – got the best of me.
He said he had stopped calling me because I was ”standoffish” during our last hook up.
Maybe that’s my problem with men.
I mean, he wasn't the first to tell me I have an icy veneer. I guess I’ve always subscribed to the notion that you never show feelings or love for several months – but come to think of it, the person who gave me that advice is 46 and still single.
I didn’t have much time to ponder the question of my cold soul, because in a matter of seconds his body was pressed up against mine. I woke up the next morning smelling of stale beer and cigarettes.
Time to save my soul later.