My trip to see THE WIZARD was contaminated before it began. This long distance thing was about to fall apart.
The sex was still pretty explosive, but the intimacy was gone entirely. A month before, while fucking on my dining room table, we locked eyes and said sweet things to one another. This time it was strictly dirty talk. That kind of emancipated sex used to turn me on, but in this case it made me a little sad.
We spent the weekend playing guitar hero, cooking, fucking, and not really talking. The night before I left, I drew up the courage to ask what changed his mind about me. He pretended he didn't know what I was talking about for a while, but then admitted to me that he was over it.
HIM: Dude, the long distance thing doesn't work for me.
ME: I like the distance. I get to look forward to seeing you. And phone sex is great!
HIM: Phone sex is depressing. Even seeing you is depressing, because I know it won't happen again for a long time.
ME: So that's it? I can't be in front of your face all the time, so you give up?
HIM: Yeah.
He took me to the airport and we kissed good bye in front of two security guards who yelled "move along!" over and over. I didn't cry until the plane landed in my city.
