Booty call’s birthday

Today is my old regular booty call's birthday. When I say regular, 6 months would easily go past without us communicating, but he became such a casual lover that his name was always prefaced by that word Casual when he got brought up in conversation.  

I know it's his birthday without looking at Facebook because it's the 21st of September, and whenever they would play September by Earth, Wind and Fire in a club he'd always get very excited about that first line, "do you remember the 21st night of September?" 

To be fair, who wouldn't get excited about their birthday being mentioned in such a banger of a song. 

And I'm sitting here procrastinating my university assignment and thinking about Casual J, and about that blind Dutch man who broke my heart a year ago with the words, "my feelings for you haven't increased, if anything they've decreased, so I don't see this as something worth pursuing", or that guy in Perth who ghosted me after 11months of constant messaging, or that friend with benefits who went cold, or that dropkick who was more interested in getting high than getting with me, or that South African guy who told me I don't show enough emotion, or that one night stand who held my head down till I swallowed, or that Sydney boy who drunk called me the other night and complained that I never reach out anymore, and then I think about the man I woke up with this morning. 

And the way he makes me laugh. And the way he says the exact same things I had been thinking. And the way he makes me feel like a person, with real ideas and real feelings, and not just a hole to be filled by a penis. 

And the way he makes me excited for the future, despite 11 weeks of lockdown.