11: April 2016 #14 - Track List for a Mix Tape I Will Never Give My Crush
Authored by Jessie Lynn McMains
Track List for a Mix Tape I Will Never Give My Crush
side a #1: A song about how I woke up at four a.m. from a sex dream about you. The dream was so vivid I felt your particular weight against me, your breath hot on my neck, your sweat slicking me into a slip’n’slide, and when I woke in the dark of my bedroom I was shocked that you weren’t there. I shoved my hand between my legs, and when I came I bit down on my lower lip to keep from crying out, bit down so hard it bled. I fell back asleep feeling empty and sad, with the rusty tang of blood lingering in my mouth. #2: A song that lets you know this isn’t just lust. As often as I imagine making out with you, I also imagine me and you - I do - making art together, drinking coffee in a tiny twilit cafe, talking for hours about everything that crosses our minds. As I go about my days, I picture you going about yours; picture you in your kitchen drinking coffee, sketching on scraps of paper, thinking of me. #3: A song in which everything is a metaphor for my heart. My heart is like a cellar door, rusted shut, waiting for you to oil its hinges and kick it wide open. My heart is like Frankenstein’s monster - ripped apart so many times then rebuilt with pieces of my spleen, my left toe, a rotting eyeball robbed from a grave; if only your electric lips touched mine I could shout It’s alive! My heart is like a neon sign flashing something enticing, like EAT or Live! Nude! Girls! My heart is like a dumpster fire that burns only for you. #4: A song about how my dumpster fire of a heart is in cahoots with my cunt. My heart thump-thumps and I feel the pulse in my cunt and it gets so wet and hot I swear to god I can see the steam rising off it. I can’t stop fantasizing about fucking. You. I imagine you bending me over a chair and smacking my ass with an open palm over and over until I feel the heat of the welts rising on my skin, before you grab a fistful of my hair and yank my head back while you fuck me hard. Yes, yes, I want you to fuck me so hard it’s almost too hard, and I want it because I’m a dirty girl who likes it rough. I want it because my desires are immoral and dirty and I need you to punish me for my sins. I want it because if you were tender, I might be tricked into thinking this could lead to something more than jerk-off fodder for my dirty mind. #5: A song about how I don’t know how to act around you. Sometimes I see the curve of your lower lip and the way your eyes crinkle up at the edges when you grin and my thoughts turn to the types of deeds sung about in the dirtiest Prince songs. I’m afraid I might pounce on you like a woman turned wildcat. I’m afraid you can smell my desire rising off me like steam. So I tease and joke and pretend I’m not thinking of what it would be like if I was your girlfriend. Other times you say sweet things that make me like you more and that makes me angry. I’m not in control of my pussy or the flashing feelings of my neon heart and I hate myself for it, and that makes me want to punish you. I want to punch you in your sweet, dirty mouth. side b #1: A song about how it’s not a big deal. Really, I’ll get over it. You’re just the newest name on a long list of hopeless crushes. I’ll write a few purple poems, make mixes that I’ll never give you, touch myself and cry over you - for a few weeks, maybe a month or two, before some shiny new crush catches my eye. Faster than you can say “I think she likes me,” I’ll have moved on to some girl in a motorcycle jacket, some boy in a flowered dress. Even if we hooked up, it wouldn’t last long. Baby, you have never seen anyone get bored and restless as fast as I do once my desires are met. And you’d just wind up as the newest member of the “I Nailed Jessie” club - a club with a very large membership. You’d be nothing but a scratching post for my wildcat-clawed lust. #2: A song about how I ache for you. If we never touch, if you never fuck me, I think I might die. I’m pretty sure this song is by Liz Phair, because every time you pass me by, I heave a sigh of pain. #3: A song about how I’m losing my mind. After I last saw you, I stopped by the supermarket. I wandered the brightly-lit aisles in a daze. I had saucy thoughts while looking at jars of pasta sauce, and in the produce section I got creepy with the cucumbers and the melons, was a little overzealous in my search for something ripe and firm. I had a half-smile on my face and I almost hit four people with my cart, and everyone probably thought I was stoned. I was, but not on drugs; I was high on lust and confusion. And in my car, on the way home, a song came on the radio - a song you’d mentioned that day. I laughed, and then I cried, because I want you and I’m not supposed to. Want you. I laugh-cried until I got hiccups and what the fuck is wrong with me? #4: A song about how I want you and I’m not supposed to, and my desires are dirty and dangerous, but maybe I don’t care anymore. Maybe I wanna do what feels good, do what’s bad. So let’s do it with cliches and power chords. Let’s flirt with danger and hitch a ride with trouble. Let the small-minded and jealous gossip, throw nasty rumors and reputations our way. No matter what they say, I can assure you I’ve heard worse. Yes, it’s scandalous, but darling we’re artists and every artist needs a good scandal from time to time. #5: A maudlin song, a tears-in-my-beer song about how I don’t even know if you like me. That way. I picture you sitting at your kitchen table. A shaft of sunlight comes through the curtains, plays against the curves of your lips and gives a shine to your dark hair. You are drinking coffee, thinking of me. In another version of that same scene, you are not thinking of me. In that version, you never think of me. And here’s the thing - I don’t know which song is sadder. I don’t know which version makes my Frankenstein’s monster of a heart hurt more: the one where we want, but can’t have, each other; or the one where you have never once woken in the dark of your bedroom, wishing my body were pressed against yours.