Every Thursday morning I sit patiently on my lonesome boulevard in anticipation of my true loves arrival. This is the highlight of my week.
When I spot his manly truck as it rounds the corner, I begin to get all steamy inside. He teases me with his painfully slow driving. He stops at every neighbor’s curbside, just to torment me. After each house he hops back in his garbage truck and looks straight ahead, right at me. My weekly case of self doubt escalates as he nears. Will he notice the stains on my sides or the scratches on my bottom? Do I smell as fresh as I did the last time we touched? What I dread most is when I am stuffed so full that my lid rests askew, balanced on top of my bulging mounds, revealing my privates. As embarrassing as this is, he never lets on that he notices. He can be such a gentleman.
Yet he has a bad boy side to him as well that drives me wild. As soon as he is within arms reach he rips off my lid exposing me in all my glory. I love the way he firmly grabs my love handles and throws me around. He treats me rough and makes me feel dirty, but in a good way. When he hoists me up and I rub myself against his hard body I have no choice but to completely surrender myself to him. I pour out my all from deep within as he slams me against his truck. I give him everything I have to offer. When I am spent I enjoy one last fleeting moment in his strong arms. But then it all goes so horribly wrong.
Once he has had his way with me he kicks me to the curb. Completely spent, I can no longer sit upright and must lie down. I’m left rolling on the cold ground feeling so empty inside. He leaves without even saying goodbye. Demoralized, I watch jealously as he has his way with all of the trashy cans down the street. Rarely does he even look back. Instead, carefree, he rides off into the sunrise.
For days afterwards I battle through a wide range of emotions. How could he? I hate him. I need him. I can’t wait to see him again. A glutton for punishment, I am weak and quick to forgive. As always, I keep coming back for more.
It is Thursday morning again and I’m waiting here on my lonesome boulevard. Maybe this time it will be different.