I always knew I wasn't the love of her life. If I were than that last night I spent with you in Springfield would not have ended in a hug.
It was already approaching midnight in Springfield and she was just waking up. She was a night creature, the same breed as owls and bats. She told me the first time we meet, behind a curtain, under a dim light "by day I'm a lonely insect, but at night i become a dragon!" we both had something in common, we both worked at night. last night she told me "if I don't come home at night don't worry, you go ahead and sleep.".... "don't worry" she always lived care free. Those words were exactly what I said when I drove that first night to see her. I said somthing similar as I pulled the car over to the corner of main and hooker. "don't worry, there scarred too. There as afraid of getting communicable disease as writers are of losing their creativity."
That night i witnessed, writers and prostitutes do have one thing in common: they have to keep smiling as they're worn down by life. Every thing that night was of course, happening for the first time. This was the first time I ever spent a night in the Sheraton hotel... This was the first time I ever i exposed my body to a women...This was the first time I ever had a woman wash my body. Stark naked, I faced a stranger who was also stark naked. Yes, the important detail was that she was a stranger. She used a fragrant soap to lather and rub down my body. The water was warm, but I felt no warmth from her hands. My only sensation was that she treated me like an object even befor I treated her like one.
