Lipstick Domme
Lipstick Domme Journal

Little Diddy

How annoying that I feel the need to write about this silliness. But anyways…

When I was like 14, 15, 16, living in New York, I had a bunch of different friends from different crowds, who lived in various towns on Long Island. I had a crew of hip-hop friends in this one town. We were close, even though I was more of a rocker chick, maybe because we all smoked a lot of weed. But whenever they met a rocker type of guy, they would introduce me to him so we could hang out and date or whatever, since everyone else in the crew was all “yo yo yo.”

Anyway, there was this one guy I dated for several months. We got along really well; like, we were best friends who also had great sex. And we smoked a hellovalotta weed. My dad used to drive me over to the guy’s apartment (where he lived with his parents) on his Harley, which made me feel cool. I have actually tried to reconnect with him before, like in my early 20s, but nothing came of it.

So last night (mind you, like 17 years have passed since I hung out with this guy), I dreamed of him. In the dream, we reconnected and there was some kind of interesting dynamic and situation. I won’t get into the details of the dream’s situation, but one part was me reminding him of a time we actually had that was kind of funny:

In order to go buy cigs, we had to walk from where he lived, through a forest, to the store that sold the smokes. People didn’t card you as much back then. Anyway, there was this older guy, in his 20s or 30s, hanging out in the woods. He was totally fucked up on cocaine or something, but we managed to understand that he was asking us if we were going to get cigs, and was telling us that he wanted us to go pick him up a pack. He was going through this pile of tissues and stuff on the ground looking for his money, lol, but there wasn’t any money there. He could barely talk; kept stuttering. But we had seen him normal before, so we knew he was just fucked up on something.

And he just kept obsessively going through this pile in which there *obviously* wasn’t any money for smokes. We tried telling him that we would get him smokes and he could pay us back later, but every time we tried, he would be like, “wait wait wait wait wait” and continue fucking with the pile.

Finally, I said really slowly, like I was speaking to a mentally deranged child, something like, “LISTEN… WE. ARE. GOING. TO. GO. DOWN. THERE. *points* TO. GET. SMOKES. NOW… WE. WILL. GET. SOME. FOR. YOU… STAY. HERE.

And the guy I was with started cracking up, like he couldn’t believe I was doing that. He was actually kind of scared that I was doing that, like I’d make the coke guy flip out on us or something. But the guy on coke just stared at me, all bewildered and lost, before going back to fucking with his pile.

Okay… now that that’s out of the way.

I looked up the guy I dated online and found him and messaged him! Let’s see if he writes back.

 

 

Did you like this? Share it:

Leave a Reply