I Unlove You by Matthew Turner Page A

these years, I know what
it ’ s like to be on the receiving end of perversion. I
have no idea why women dislike it so much, because I bloody loved
it. ”
    “ That ’ s great, Joey.
Congratulations. “
    “ Oh no, that ’ s merely
the beginning, brother. After she ogled me, she leaned closer and
curled her hair, ” he says, stroking an imaginable mane. “‘ What does
this one say? ’ she asked, referring to my Frank
Zappa quote, and ‘ what does this one mean? ’ she said, touching
my split-in-two rocking chair. ”
    Pointing at various sections of
his arms, he continues to talk and laugh and smirk, although my
wayward attention is far too nomadic to focus. I know the story
behind each tattoo, even present for most artistic sessions. I like
to think I helped along the way, designing his apple tree and dove,
and helping decide which Donovan lyric to use.
    I sometimes look at his ink-filled
arms and laugh how it all began. A rebellious act of defiance, with
a cartoon sketch of Bugs Bunny of all things. He never has been
able to explain why he chose Bugs, although I sense it has some
sort of meaning behind it.
    “ And when she got me downstairs
in the old coat room, she fingered my hair like a horny hare, and
bit my shoulder until it bled. ” He undoes his top two shirt buttons
and slides the fabric to one side. “ Look at it! Look at
what the crazy nympho did to me. I tell you, I ’ ve had
some freaky nights before, but nothing like
this. ”
    “ Joey, this is great, but can we
talk about —“
    “ No, no, I ’ m not done yet.
Because as kinky as she was at the club, her true colours showed as
soon as I took her back to my place. ‘ Oh wow, I love your
big apartment, ’ she said, staring at my
crotch. ‘ This view is to die for, ’ she whispered,
tearing my shirt open. Not unbuttoning it, oh no. Ripping them
off. ” He laughs and bites his pipe. “ I swear, everything
that came out of her mouth was a sexual innuendo. I barely said
anything all night, pinching myself, assuming I was in a porno or
being set up by one of the guys at the club. ”
    “ Joey —“
    “ And then the craziness began:
on top, underneath, from behind, on the floor, against the wall,
upside down, hanging over the bed, food, shots … and I barely did a
thing the whole damn time. ”
    “ Joey. ”
    “ I ’ ve never been so
tender in my life. That crazy nymphomaniac ripped me to
shreds. ”
    “ Come on, Joey.
Jesus! ”
    “ And then, best of all, she left
on her own accord, ” he says, looking past me and into the
distance. “ When I woke up, she was gone. ” He snaps his stare to
me. “ It was the best damn night of my life. ”
    I
sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “ Please, can we talk
about something else? ”
    “ Oh come on,
Aus, ” he huffs, picking up a beer mat and throwing it at my
chest. “ Here I am, telling you about the greatest night of my life,
and you look suicidal. What? Didn ’ t my story have
enough missionary positions or cuddles? ”
    “ Shut up. ”
    “ I bet you love missionary,
don ’ t you? I bet that ’ s all you and B do. I can
picture it now. ‘ Yes Aus, just like that. Lay on top of me like a
salmon, ’” he says with a soft tone. “‘ Oh, I love how
you ’ re so gentle and careful with your
hands. ’”
    I glare at him. Because I hate
him.
    “‘ Oh B , I love how you just
lay there like a dead giraffe, ’” he says, mimicking
me now, I assume. “‘ Why, I think I may write a letter about how I
feel about this. I love you so much, and our medicare, and our
uninspiring nights together. ’”
    I hate him, but instead of
punching him like I should, I laugh and throw a beer mat at his
head. I miss.
    “ Even you find your life pitiful
and hilarious, ” he says, laughing.
    I sigh. “ Shut
up. ”
    “ You love my
stories. ”
    “ No. No, I do not. And
besides, B and me get up to a lot in the bedroom. ”
    “ Pray tell. ”
    “ It stays there. Not all of us
feel the