Dorothy Chan
I’m the Sad Girl in the Anime Masturbating
on the phone to the lover she didn’t choose,
rubbing my clit to his sounds while looking
at photos of younger, hotter men
with dimples and sly smiles. I try to convince
myself I could love him, because when someone
older and in power tells you you work too much
and should settle down and learn to cook
cordon bleu and buy more furniture, you listen,
or I’m convinced the o in love stands for obligation,
as in I’m supposed to be over the moon and stars
and sun for the “love” he’s so “selflessly”
offering me. O stands for we own each other,
as in “I’m the only one for you,” he says,
and “Don’t tell me about the last man you had
sex with, because my feelings will be hurt,”
and “I look forward to sharing more beautiful
words with a beautiful woman,” he writes me
in a card, and oh, O is my mouth wanting to
throw up. O, my face craving to orgasm
tonight, while tuning out his voice and looking
at actual hunks, as he tries to convince me
he’s handsome by name dropping Jim Carrey
and Robert Downey Jr. and even John
Malkovich, as his celebrity doppelgängers
at various stages of his life, and I blame myself,
wondering how and why I always wind up in
situations where I can’t escape, like when he
trapped me in a hotel room in Florida, not letting
go of me in bed, until I kissed him back:
a man in his forties going after a pretty Asian
girl, and is that all I am, I wonder, rubbing
peach lotion on my legs, breathing a sigh
of relief, because I can’t think of a single
look-alike for myself, and I don’t like how
his voice travels at one hundred words a minute,
like I’m seated at an auction, but he’s the one
bidding on me. Maybe I like being the prize
but hate being taken home by a strange man
who buys too many antiques and overpriced
paintings. I wonder how monogamy ever worked
for anyone, or if we’re all just stuck in the infinite
cycle of lovers we hate, since timing is the worst
and best part of existence. I mute him, then spread
my legs wide open O, and take a photo for another
man, now asleep, because I know he’ll love a good
morning surprise, that sexiness and safety of this
man I crave, picturing him holding me tighter.