Chucks Night Out

Chuck shuts the engine of the car off and sits in the dark for awhile, only the glow from the tip of his cigarette breaking the night. The music is soft and there for background, as he flips the cap of his lighter back and forth, with quick snaps, as if when it shuts, the thought he is working on will finally answer itself. but it doesn't and he continues to sit there in the dark, wondering just what it was about this woman that will not let him move forward. he found a way to deal, and then suddenly, he backslid right into her palms.

the sounds from outside drown out, and he lights another cigarette with the burning edge of the old one. the smoke goes down his throat in large gulps and his mouth taste bitter. he slurps at the beer bottle to get rid of that repulsive taste and continues on with his thought. he's always been a man of absolutes, and while he knows that his body only wants to have sex with the woman, his mind knows that this will lead him down a deeper and further decline than the last time he laid with her. He knows that she is not the one for him in any capacity, mentally or physically, they are two completely different people, but in the dark, rolling around on the bed, unhinging the bed cover and tangling themselves in the blankets every-which-way, there is a passion there, for what he is not sure of, but something ignited inside of him, and he finally realizes what it was.

Chuck's parents were the solitary kind. They rarely laughed, talked, or went out as a family. His mother was always off doing her own thing and his father was never around. This produced a Chuck that was looking for affection at first, during his young age, but now wanted affection from a woman since he could no longer obtain it from his mother. Chuck went through numerous romances, all ending horribly, and all being mostly his fault, for expecting a woman to embrace him at night, the way his mother never did. It was horrible to think of this for Chuck, and he was riddled with sadness and an overbearing amount of self loathing. But in order to make strides in life, one must be able to go down to the madness of your own soul and figure out why you are horrible to begin with. only then can you become something greater than the shit stain of life, Chuck thought to himself.

He seeked validity from this woman, and she rarely gave it to him, and while she may have not known just how much she was fucking with Chucks head, he always seemed to first laugh and dismiss it, then wallow in it, and finally resent her for not being what he needed. That's selfish of me, thought Chuck, to expect her to be something i want. He took another slug from the beer and flicked his lighter some more.

So now he understood why he wanted this woman. He wanted to fuck her, hard, and slow, then hard again, and eventually spew on her inner thigh or chest, but that was what his body wanted. His mind validated this by making him feel tenderness and affection from her (when she was willing to give it to him; (which was rarely). Chuck knew what he had to do. And that was nothing. He could not do anything. He could not tell the woman his new discovery, and neither could he ever sleep with her again. This saddened him, because inside, he did have a spot for her, but she was a square peg, and the spot, well, you know the story reader, the spot was a round hole not meant for her.

Chuck felt better about himself for taking the time to work out the thought, and finished off his beer, tossing it in the numerous open trashcans scattered across the street. As he walked towards his apartment, the air felt a little crisper, and his steps felt lighter. He was not drunk. He had controlled his drinking. a possum hissed at him from across the street and he ran up his stairs leading onto the landing. The keys fit the door, chuck kicked it open and felt the warm comfort of home. He went into the bathroom and slowly undressed, watching himself in the mirror with the light beaming in from the neighbors apartment across the way. He entered his room, naked, and slid under the sheets. Chuck wrapped his arms around Maggie, and she slowly awoke. He was glad he knew that the other woman was bad. And Maggie, while not being completely good, and probably also as bad as the other woman, was a fresh wound for him. He smiled lightly and knew that this too would end in disaster, but this time, yes, this time, he was prepared.