G The Hollowest Girl of Them All

The Hollowest Girl of Them All

Zach: The sensualist

You’ve all seen Zach, and you’ve all seen me.

I’m not a thin woman. Actually, I’m quite lumpy and stretch marky, and unashamedly overweight. But I think, of all then men I’ve been with, he made me feel the sexiest.

He used to gaze at my face with something akin to wonder, and stroke the sharpness of my cheekbones. The first time he saw me naked, he looked at me like someone would look at a goddess, and just said. “Wow. You…. wow.”

Once while we were riding the train during rush hour, he told me my eyes were incredible. He said that they were how he imagined Cleopatra’s to look: dark and hooded and …. guarded. A woman behind him raised an eyebrow at us, and I just smiled back.

Zach was no flatterer though, he always said everything very matter of factly, like he was commenting on the weather.

Zach twined himself around me like a vine in public places, daring anyone to comment with his stare.

 He was just… magnificent looking. His body was kind of like a swimmer’s. All lean lines and symmetry. He was just so compact and graceful and flexible. His feet and hands were so perfect, like they’d been carved from marble by a master sculptor.

He kissed with playful enthusiasm,and snuck his hands places    like he thought he wouldn’t be allowed. I was a precious object to him. Lord, knows why.

Zach was like a selfish little prince. Demanding, and lofty, beautiful and gifted.

He had a habit of making me  paper cranes when his heart was too full, and presenting them to me like tokens of his favor.

I accepted them and kissed every one.

Zach: On Being Me

Part of the interesting thing about dating someone just like you is getting to see your own flaws live and in action.

He did so many things to me that I do to other people, that I think I became a better person just from being with him.

He said things that were cutting. Held me to unreasonable expectations. And liked me with a selfishness that I don’t think I can describe very well.

I traveled far to see him every time we met, and he never once offered to take me home.

Everything was on his terms at all times. And he was ruthlessly secretive about himself and his past. Just. Like. Me.

Or maybe we just didn’t date long enough for me to break down his barrier.

I was just so shocked that we were so similar that I took the relationship as an opportunity to learn about my bad habits and the feeling of emotional disconnect that most men I’m with probably experience with me.

I dunno.

Lets talk about sensuality and sex now. I’m bored of talking about relationships.

*Zach: Normal, Enough.

My favorite thing about him: His eyelashes were so long. They dusted his cheeks like branches from a willow tree. Things like that are best seen up close.

Anyway, Zach was always enthusiastic about everything, and gave amazing back rubs. Very kind, but easily offended and annoyed.

There were some things about him that I just couldn’t understand.

Just like there were probably things about me that my previous partners didn’t understand.

Zach made time for me, but didn’t go out of his way to convenience me, and he was totally about himself and his priorities. (like me)

We did have fun though. We went to museums, and he read to me in the park and we restaurant hopped and watched 90’s movies. He read the book I was writing and helped me with editing it. And I helped him with his painting and gave him…. inspiration.

He was a real art kid. Pretentious to the core; what hipsters wish they were, and pretend to be.

He watched documentaries and silent films and talked about Man Ray. I watched Adventure Time and Good Fellas and talked about Ender’s Game.

*Oh, and his tongue was pierced. Just thought I should mention it.


Was probably the most blandly attractive guy I’ve ever dated. He looked like someone you’d see on TV that chicks would talk about being hot.

But honestly, I didn’t care what he looked like because he was just too fucking cool.

And we were really similar:

Both self involved artists, distracted by our own talent to really invest in relationships, emotionally lacking and physically indulgent, with a preference for the unexpected. Obsessed with aesthetic, beyond reasonable measure and obnoxiously impressed with each other.

I actually met him online.

Sometimes, you run into people in the strangest places and you just have to stop and say “Damn, son. Why are we so similar?”

Then, when I met him in person, I was just flabbergasted at the fact that I’d managed to land him.

Our relationship was short and sweet, and I think I learned the most about myself from dating him.

Here is him, winking and looking flossy. No fucking idea who that chick is, but she looks nice. :D

Coming Up Next: Zach

The boy who was just like me.

Nick: A snapshot

Nicholas and I orbited each other like twin planets. We were in a marriage of convenience.

I couldn’t even tell you why we were friends, we had nothing in common.

When we met for a second time, I hadn’t known how long he’d thought about me. Sitting under a lab table in class, ignoring our physics teacher screaming at us to please please get back into our seats, he told me he had wanted to speak to me for three months.

Holding my hands in his, not looking into my eyes, he said that he wanted to be my friend so badly, but he was scared I wouldn’t like him.

I almost laughed, it sounded so absurd.

Nick was infamous.

He was invited to all the best parties, hung out with all the prettiest people. He got love confessions every week and there were more rumors about him than anyone else at school.

Like a sad kid trying to reach out, he awkwardly complimented my shoes and forced a smile.

My heart sprung open like a cage of birds, and every one of them perched on his shoulders and rested in his hands.


I met Nicholas the second week of my first year of high school.

I’m only mentioning her because she’s the one who introduced us. Nick and me.

It’s surprising that I didn’t notice him before we were properly introduced. Nicholas is rather hard to miss.

Nicholas looked like a martyr.He was a stick thin ragdoll of self destruction, his striking face smeared in gritty makeup. Nick was tall and thin, sinister yet vulnerable, magnetic but distant.
His eyes were tired and wise. It was almost like he was surrounded by violent electromagnetic static; something we were all instantly aware of once we step into its path.
Women and men looked at him and lusted after him, and I understood why. He was slinky, his lankiness bringing with it agonizing grace. Where we would amble, he sauntered, where we wandered, he’s stride.
It was effortless.
Everywhere he went, crowds of women followed, twittering like birds, lunging for his heart despite his insistence that he preferred men.

Girls like me scoffed at girls like them.

Before you wonder, I wasn’t in love with him, I didn’t fall in love with him, and I’m not in love with him now. Nicholas is one of those men who is surrounded by warning.

And unlike many other women, I actually heed it.

Ryan: I saw him for the first time in 5 years today.

He was as lovely as ever.

His eyes are so deep.

I want him again.

You know, while we were dating he told me that he had a dream that we got married. and he described everything to me in minute detail. What I was wearing. Where it was. How he looked. Everything.

He said that it was the happiest dream he’d had in a long time.

I kind of made fun of him about it, said he was being girly.

When I looked at him after all these years, it was like jumping into the deepest coldest sea.

I could have drowned.

And he looked at me like he was feeling the same. He clutched me close like he was afraid I would fall apart in his arms and pressed the side of his face to mine.

Something about him draws me to him helplessly. I don’t even know what to do.

On another note, I don’t know how I keep getting these amazing guys.

I’m ugly, black and huge.



He was the first boy I ever really liked.

Before Alex, I was une petite lesbienne. ;]

The situation was this:

When I was eight, my parents worked too far to be able to pick me up from school, so, they arranged for me to be dropped off at a baby sitter’s home.

Our baby sitter’s name was Mrs.Taj. She was Indian, in her mid-fifties and primarily cared for very young toddlers. The fact that there even was anyone my age to play with there was a miracle.

Alex, I only have hazy memories of.

I can’t even see his face.

All I remember is that he had the kind of blonde hair that was like wheat and watery blue eyes that were too far apart in my opinion.

He just happened to always be around.

So I wont call this love.

It was more like…. pleasant convenience.

Instead of the proverbial notches on my bedpost, I decided to write about them instead. My loves. My experiences. I've definitely had enough of them to entertain someone out there.
"Cento" Copyright © Andrew Brinker 2011.