The Rules of Attraction

Got you. You're mine now. For the rest of the day, week, month, year, life. Have you guessed who I am? Sometimes I think you have. Sometimes when you're standing in a crowd I feel those sultry, dark eyes of yours stop on me. Are you too afraid to come up to me and let me know how you feel? I want to moan and writhe with you and I want to go up to you and kiss your mouth and pull you to me and say "I love you I love you I love you" while stripping. I want you so bad it stings. I want to kill the ugly girls that you're always with. Do you really like those boring, naive, coy, calculating girls or is it just for sex? The seeds of love have taken hold, and if we won't burn together, I'll burn alone.

What does that mean know me, know me, nobody ever knows anybody else, ever! You will never know me.

No one ever likes the right person.

I only had sex with her because I'm in love with you.

A great numb feeling washes over me as I let go of the past and look forward to the future. Pretend to be a vampire. I don't really need to pretend, because it's who I am, an emotional vampire. I've just come to expect it. Vampires are real. That I was born this way. That I feed off of other people's real emotions. Search for this night's prey. Who will it be?

And it struck me then, that I liked Sean because he looked, well, slutty. A boy who had been around. A boy who couldn't remember if he was Catholic or not.

When the going gets tough, the tough go drinking.

No one will ever know anyone. We just have to deal with each other. You're not ever gonna know me.

What else is there to do in college except drink beer or slit one's wrists?

The seeds of love have taken hold and if we won't burn together, I'll burn alone.

Rock 'n' roll. Deal with it.

I wasn't acting on passion. I was simply acting.

The Smiths are singing and someone says "Turn that gay angst music off.

Who is this girl? Why is she alive? Wonder if I should leave right now. Get up and say, 'Goodnight fuck-ups, it's been a sheer sensation and I hope I never see any of you again,' and leave?

I want to moan and writhe with you and I want to go up to you and kiss your mouth and pull you to me and say "I love you I love you I love you" while stripping. I want you so bad it stings.

Do you wear a diaphragm everywhere you go?' I want to scream, but stop myself because the idea really excites me.

If you can’t make a girl come why even bother? That always seemed to me to be like writing questions in a letter.

he looked at me with such vehemence that I felt like a blip, a fart, in the course of his life.

I think we've all lost some sort of feeling

Did you know I was born in a Holiday Inn.

I didn't know. All I know was that the sex was terrific. And that the hippie was cute. She loved sweet pickles. She liked the name Willie. She even liked Apocalypse Now. She was not a vegeterian. These were all on the plus side. But, once I introduced her to my friends, at the time, and they were all stuck-up asshole Lit majors and they made fun of her and she understoond what was going on and her eyes, usually blue, too blue, vacant, were sad. And I protected her. I took her away from them. ('Spell Pynchon,' they asked her, cracking up.) And she introduced me to her friends. And we ended up sitting on some Japanese pillows in her room and we all smoked some pot and this little hippie girl with a wreath on her head, looked at me as I held her and said, "The world blows my mind'. And you know what? I fucked her anyway.

Questions raced through my mind—does she go wild during sex, does she come easily, does she freak out about oral sex, does she mind a guy coming in her mouth? Then I realized I won’t go to bed with a girl if she won’t do that. I also won’t go to bed with a girl if she can’t or won’t have an orgasm because then, what’s the point? If you can’t make a girl come why even bother? That always seemed to me to be like writing questions in a letter.

It was when she started dealing coke so she could lose weight. It had worked, sort of. I think she still has a fat ass, and can look dumpy, and has dried-out black hair and writes awful poetry and I'm pissed off that I let her get into that position of denying me.

God, the name Susan is so ugly. It reminds me of the word sinus.