The blog was quiet for Christmas and New Year as tech support shipped themselves home in a shiny box for a few weeks. Now that the festivities are finished, just in time for Chinese New Year, we’re back and typing.

The prompt for this week is to write a scene from the perspective of the other sex i.e. if you are female, write from a male point of view and vice versa. There was much enthusiasm around the table for making this a sex scene but I say any scene is okay.

Farewell to the phone numbers between my thighs. To the men who have scarred, bruised, and left their marks with my permission. With my welcoming in those who did not deserve an invite or even a whisper of my availability.

There was Mark. An engineer from Chicago. Yes he lived with his mother at the age of 30. But could I blame him for wanting to care for an ailing parent? Sebastian was too much of a mother lover. He was harmless; wouldn’t even step on the water bug crawling along the kitchen floor. Tony would have squished out its guts with his Timberland hiking boots that he wore year round. Kindrid was Jamaican, the word “mercy” was foreign to his ears. Marcy, he believed in redemption. Too bad a stray bullet to the head cut his life short. Sidicious was a vegan of 15 years, with a penis that easily vouched for it. He never allowed me to love him. Scottie hated that I didn’t love him enough. Nigel called me frugal. Duane believed I was an intelligent shopper, yet an unintelligent human being. Rojas wanted our existence to be unheard of. Now Ely, I could have married. But when one is caught kissing another woman in a nightclub it diminishes all prospects of a future. David couldn’t stay out of the nightclub. Edris couldn’t stay employed. Jeff wanted to play drums all day. Malachi hated the white race. Rob hated the black race, but ironically loved me. Jordan had four daughters. They thought I was too young. Dylan thought I was too old. He was 18. Nathan didn’t believe in condoms. Jay didn’t believe in sex. Nagrom didn’t believe in God.

When someone say’s they are exhausted, doesn’t it mean all the energy needed to continue a behavior is no longer? Doesn’t it mean all prospects to execute a previous action is gone? If so, I am exhausted. I leave the phone numbers to drop to the ground. My shoes, rubbing them into the asphalt. One by one, they peel off my thighs. New thoughts begin to enter my mind, blocking previous memories from any sort of breathing space.