Crush

The Waiter

Imagine pure strength dipped in chocolate. His hands could crush me. And I would let them. His eyes pierced like the sun. I could never look for long. I longed for him to touch me. For his mass to cover me like an eclipse. No escape. I needed no escape. Just complete submission to his reign. In my mind, thick fingers graze my neck, lightly at first before he deepens his push digit by digit. My breath thins and I welcome it.  My body is his to take, gently, roughly, I give it to him. 

Imagine the sweetest song, composed just for you. Its rhythms matching the beat of your heart, its melodies humming the secrets no one knows. But he knows. He knows and he sings you to you, just for you. Others may hear but only you understand and he knows this. A secret between the two of you. He walks towards you and the harmonies grow louder between your thighs.

Imagine the face of an angel and the body of a god. Imagine the deepest, finest, richest mahogany rubbing against your wanting skin. He has no regard for the others in the room. He looks at only me. He leans over me, runs his massive hands through my hair and tugs. I do not flinch. I ask for more. He leans closer, pushes the table in front of me away. Stands over my body completely, his girth magnetic to my core. I do not flinch. I ask for more. He bends now, looks me square in the eyes, grabs my face when I instinctively attempt to look away. 

"Don't," he says. 

He kisses my cheek and I die. His inebriating scent gathers into a cloud that I mount and I float away. My eyes roll to the back of my head and he kisses my neck. My nipples awaken, hungry and jealous. He knows. He focuses on the buttons on my shirt. Undoes the top one slowly then rips the rest away in one aggressive swoop. I do not scream. I ask for more. 

I ask for more. 

"More?" he asks. 

"More," I beg. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, what is it you want more of?"

My eyes roll forward and open. 

"Excuse me?" I ask. 

"I haven't taken your order yet so what do you want more of? Do you need more water?"

"Um, ahem, yes, please, thank you."

He leaves me. He leaves me devastated and thirsty. Water, the last thing on my mind. 

My husband's deep sigh carries across the table but doesn't touch me. I don't let it touch me. 

"Do you think we can come to this restaurant just once without you drooling over the waiter?" he asks. 

"No, my love, probably not."

 

Just Do It...Maybe.

Love unconditionally.

If you like her, tell her.

If you want to call him, call him.

Tomorrow isn't promised. 

Don't be afraid to express how you feel. 

You never know when they'll be gone.

You never know when you'll be gone.

So just do it.

Seize the day. 

Have no fear. 

Be ruthlessly giving with your heart. 

Unless we're talking about a crush.

A crush that you're not sure likes you.

Or a crush you KNOW doesn't like you.

In that case don't say shit. 

Take that shit to the grave. 

Expressing crush feelings will lead to nothing but guaranteed emotional death. 

But yeah, everyone else? Like your mom.

Go tell your mom you love her and shit because you know, you never know.

 

Loving Luke: Part III

Standing in front of his couch, my heart pounded out of my chest. I could see the blatant rise and fall through this damn dress that was way too tight. What was normally a place of familiarity suddenly felt wildly outside of my comfort zone. I'd been in this apartment hundreds of times but now, standing here, I couldn't tell you my own name, let alone where the bathroom was.

Luke walked over to his kitchen and slid his wallet and keys across the pristine quartz countertop that I picked out for him last year when he bought the place and decided to renovate. 

He turned and stared at me.

I tried to play it cool, tried to steady my chest with a deep breath.

"What's going on, Luke?"

"Tell me you don't think about it."

"About?"

He took a step towards me.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Why are you trying to make me confess something? Don't you get enough attention?"

"You're right. This isn't about how you feel. I already know how you feel about me."

He took another step.

"You do?"

"You make it pretty damn clear, Olivia."

If a black girl could turn red, I'd be red.

"I do?"

"Sure. I know you're not feelin' it anymore but I..."

"You what?"

"I want you so fucking badly."

He was in front of me. 

I wanted to reach out and grab him but the disbelief washing over my body shocked me into stillness. 

"What are you talking about?" I whispered.

"I can't hide it anymore. And I can't take not telling you. I love you. I've always loved you."

I watched his lips as they delivered the words I'd been waiting twelve years to hear. I couldn't believe it.

"Please, say something," he said.

"I can't believe this."

"I'm sorry. I know you don't feel the same. I just had to..."

"I do."

"You do?"

"How could you not know that I do?"

His eyes examined my face for clarity while my eyes searched his for veracity. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"How could I? You were always so..preoccupied."

"I was an idiot. You've always been the one."

"I can't believe..."

His lips wouldn't let me finish.

He kissed me, slowly at first, then passionately, like he'd found water in a desert.

My arms wrapped around his neck while his hands grazed my back before moving south and cupping my behind. 

I returned his passion with my tongue, finding my own water that I'd waited so many years to drink. 

Luke picked me up swiftly, wrapping my legs around his waist, pushing my dress up around my stomach. 

He pulled his face away from mine and I gasped for air. He didn't say a word, just glued his eyes on mine and carried me to his bedroom.

It felt like a dream. 

He sat me down on his bed gently with a sudden tenderness in every twitch of his muscles. As he hovered over me and unzipped the back of my dress, I couldn't help but kiss his chest.

I had no interest in taking my time with him. I started unbuttoning his shirt until I realized there were just too many of them. I ripped the fabric open revealing those perfect pecs and that endless washboard stomach that I'd drooled over for far too long. It was time to make it all mine. 

It didn't take Luke long to notice my blatant rejection of his smooth, slow and sensual vibe. He saw the hunger in my eyes and was obliged to match my speed. 

He finished the removal of his shirt while I clawed at the zipper of his jeans. In no time at all, both his pants and my dress laid abandoned in the corner of his bedroom. 

We collided into each other, hungrily seeking and fervently finding everything we never knew was so readily available all this time. I climbed on top of him, grinding my hips against his girth. His hands grabbed my ass once again and guided my motion. I reached down and slid my right hand under his briefs, freeing the monster that was dying to come out, stretching towards me, wanting me as desperately as I wanted him. God, his dick was perfect. 

Oh shit. 

His dick. 

Was he only offering me his dick? Was his confession of love nothing more than a misconstrued admittance of lust? I could see the two getting confused easily, especially with Luke. He'd never told any woman he loved her before, why the hell would he say it to me? Could I do this? Could I fuck my best friend, knowing his words could dissolve like a morning dew as soon as we both reached orgasmic nirvana? 

I let go of his dick and rolled off of him, creating some distance so I could think.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Is this, you know, all you want?"

"You will always be all I want," he said, stroking my stomach with the tips of his fingers.

"But is THIS all you want from me?"

"If you'll let me," he said rolling on top of me, staring into my terrified eyes, "I will love you for the rest of your life, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. All you have to do is let me."

"I'm scared."

He wiped a tear I didn't know had escaped my eye and kissed me, slowly.

"I understand and that's okay. But, I'm here. I'm here and I love you."

"I love you too, Luke. I always have."

I took his face in my hands and lowered him down for a kiss. Our passions grew once again as we melted into one another. 

We made love until the sun came up, both of our bodies pushed to the brink of exhaustion. For the first time in hours, Luke rolled away from me, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

"So, now that you're my girl," he said, "we're going to need to have a serious conversation about something."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Breakfast. I'm pretty sure you should be making me breakfast."

I laughed and smacked him on his chest, playfully.

"Boy, please. I wish you would even think it. I'll take both butter and jam on my toast, thank you very much. Eggs scrambled, not fried."

"Well, yes, ma'am!"

I laughed with my friend, my best friend, my love. 

 

 

Loving Luke: Part II

luke.jpeg

Her name was Olivia. She’d been my absolute best friend for twelve years and she had no idea how much I loved her. 

It wasn't just a cliche. With Olivia, it was love at first sight. I'd never seen a girl so gorgeous and smart and down to Earth. That combination was damn near impossible. She was perfect.

She was perfect, but I was sixteen; I knew better than to go there. She was innocent and I had no interest in being innocent. Being her friend was selfish. I got the joy of her company without having to give her more. As much as I recognized her beauty, inside and out, I was too young to know what to even do with all of that. 

In college I could tell it drove her crazy. I'd catch her staring when she thought I wouldn't notice. She was a little too giving and too caring. She behaved the way only a woman in love behaved. It made me feel like shit but what can I say? I was nineteen, twenty, too young and incapable of that sort of reciprocity. College campuses were a breeding ground for bad decisions and I was in no way willing to miss out on my share of scandalous mistakes. 

The one time I tried to have a serious girlfriend, Maxine, she cheated and left without batting an eyelash. She solidified my theory that love was for the birds. Olivia was there for me; to this day, she's the only person to ever see me tear up. I appreciated her too much to risk losing that friendship for a love that I knew would ultimately fail. All love failed in the end and besides, my young dick had other plans.

But none of that matters now. Olivia is a grown woman. She sees through my bullshit and knows better than to want anything to do with me romantically. I don't catch her staring anymore. She's still giving and caring but not too giving, not too caring. She behaves as any other friend would, doesn't get too close, doesn't get too mushy. Like most mature woman she's smart enough to build that wall that protects her from assholes like me.

The only problem is I've grown too. I'm a man now, ready to put childish things behind me. I'm a man smart enough to see the true beauty in front of me. I'm a man in love with his best friend. Unfortunately, I'm also human and terrified of the inevitable rejection that would come with any sort of sentimental confession of love. For years I selfishly accepted her friendship. Now, I cling to it, the only chance I have to be close to her without blowing my cover. I try to suppress the way I feel, make sure not to stare too long, smile too wide, touch too playfully. But, it gets harder every day. I'm a man in love. 

"I brought you a water anyway," she said, returning from the bar.

"Thanks."

"I see you managed to stay afloat in the pussy sea."

"Stranger things have happened. And who knows, maybe this old dog could turn a new leaf."

"Shiiiit."

We laughed together, her from sincere amusement, me with subdued discomfort.

I pulled her close to feel her body and hide my pained expression. I feared if she caught a glimpse of my eyes and asked me what was going on I'd confess my true feelings right there in the middle of that dance floor. Usher singing about what he wanted to do to his own love interest "In This Club" did not help the situation.

Our bodies pressed together and I tried to keep my manhood in check. It was hard to do. She wore a skin-tight, black dress with heels that forced her legs to go on for days. Burying my head in her neck I smelled the perfume she wore all the time. She was intoxicating, always was. We swayed and grooved and grinded to the music. She turned around and pushed her ass against me and continued to move like sex through a valley of sin. What the hell was she trying to do to me? I fought to contain myself. She had me too fucking hard. It was an impossible task. I gave in, refused to put space between us and allowed her to feel my girth. She paused for a split second but then kept on grooving. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pretended she was mine, really mine.

The next thing I knew the lights were on and the music stopped. Closing time already. The brightening room broke my trance and forced me to readjust my dick, no longer protected by darkness.

Olivia stepped away from me and offered up a friendly smile. 

"You need a ride?" she asked, casually.

"No, I, um, came with Steve."

"Well, it doesn't look like you're leaving with him."

She nodded her head towards the crowded exit where Steve and Saundra were making out while making their way out of the door.

"Looks like we've been ditched again, buddy," she continued.

I chuckled.

"What else is new?"

"Not a damn thing," she chuckled with me.

We were both still hot and sweaty. The chilled air blowing through her car window was sobering and refreshing. 

"You're pretty quiet over there."

"Just enjoying this air."

"Sorry if I...ruined anything."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"By dancing with you all night. I was just playing around earlier. I don't want to stand in the way of any, you know, conquests."

"You sure about that?"

"Excuse me?" she asked, slightly blushing.

My heart skipped half of a beat but I continued anyway.

"You never? You know..."

"Know what?"

She sounded almost defensive. Shit, this was a bad idea. 

"Never mind."

We came to a red light and sat in stilled silence. Olivia looked out her window and I looked at her. As her head turned back to check the traffic light I was sure to to remove my gaze in a timely fashion. 

"Do you ever?" she eventually asked, still looking at the light.

"I mean..."

"Because I don't. I meant what I said, I'm really not trying to get in the way."

I took a hard breath.

"Trust me, I know that," I stated plainly.

"Ok, good."

"Great."

Another red light. Another hard silence. I knew she wasn't feeling me like that anymore but damn, she never even thought about it?

"I just don't want you thinking I'm like, obsessed with you, because I'm not. You have enough of these chicken heads running around making you feel too damn special."

"What the hell, Olivia? Are you trying to make me mad?"

"What?! I'm just saying you don't have to worry about me getting in the way!"

"Well, what if I told you I wanted you to get in the way?"

She furrowed her brow in confusion.

"What? Why would you want that?"

I ran my hands over my head and tried to figure out what to say next. Fuck. I was in too deep. Me and my damn mouth. 

"I'm just not interested in it anymore. Girl after girl. Hook up after hook up. I'm tired of that shit."

"If you're serious, Luke, that's great for you. I just don't know what that has to do with me."

I bit my lip and wiped a sweaty palm into my jeans.

"We're here," she said.

"What?"

"We're at your place."

I looked out the window and sure enough we were parked in front of my building. 

"What are you doing for the rest of the night?" I asked her, the words flowing uncontrollably without filter.

"It's 3 o'clock in the morning, I'm going home, Luke."

"Come up for a quick second. I need to talk to you."

I opened the door and stepped out of the car before she could turn me down. Enough was enough. I needed her to know how I felt and I needed her to know now. 

 

Red Hot: An Ode (In Pictures)

Reeeeeedddddddd!

Reeeeeedddddddd!

I'd trust you with my taxes...and my vagina. 

I'd trust you with my taxes...and my vagina. 

Rough me up...red style.

Rough me up...red style.

You know those redheaded, bearded hipsters that everyone hates? I want to sit on their faces. 

You know those redheaded, bearded hipsters that everyone hates? I want to sit on their faces. 

Michael...my heart is yours.

Michael...my heart is yours.

He could get tough with my mud.

He could get tough with my mud.

I'd go to his show. 

I'd go to his show. 

I'd meet his parents. 

I'd meet his parents. 

Read me a book, please.

Read me a book, please.

Praise Jesus.

Praise Jesus.

Our Love Child, all grown up... :) Mommy loves you!

Our Love Child, all grown up... :) Mommy loves you!

Loving Luke

luke.jpeg

We were at a new club tonight. This place was hot. The dance floor was packed, drinks were flowing, and bodies were touching. Steve and Saundra were all over each other, as usual. They sat next to me and Luke but I’m sure they didn’t notice us there, or anyone else for that matter. Eventually, they drifted off to the dance floor. Bob Marley moved bodies as he asked his “little darling” to “stir it up”.

Suddenly, I felt Luke’s strong arm wrap around my waist, his hand resting my thigh. His touch made me involuntarily readjust.

“Wanna dance?” he asked, the cool of his fresh breath tickling my ear.

“Sure,” I responded, casually.

We stood, made our way to the dance floor, not too far from Steve and Saundra and grooved to the music together. His touch shouldn’t have made me nervous. His gaze shouldn’t have sent chills down my spine. I’d known him for more than a decade. We were friends, good friends.

Twelve years ago my best friend Saundra and I were freshmen at Roosevelt High. One particular Saturday night we were raiding Saundra’s closet, looking for the most “grown up” outfits we could find, painting our nails and trying out different hair dos. I’d heard some juniors in my Trigonometry class talking about this hot party Steve Nichols was throwing this weekend. Being the weird, genius freshman in all junior and senior level classes did have some perks. I ran and told Saundra right away. Steve was her neighbor, just four houses down; we wouldn’t have to ask our parents for a ride, we wouldn’t even have to tell them. We could plan one of our usual sleepovers at her house, slip out when her parents weren’t looking and if anything went wrong we’d hurry back and just tell them we went for a walk or something. The night was bound to be perfect.

“What do you think of this one?” Saundra asked holding up a short, skin-tight, red dress.

“I don’t know. It might be a little much. Besides, there are no straps, how are you going to hold it up?” I asked playfully.

“Forget you,” my best friend responded, throwing the dress at me with a laugh.

“Okay, for real. We have to be smart about this. We can’t walk in there looking like freshmen that’re trying too hard.”

“But that’s what we are.”

“Yeah, but they don’t need to know that!”

I searched the entirety of her closet.

“Here, these are perfect!”

I pulled two pairs of skinny jeans off of the overhead shelf and tossed a pair to Saundra.

“Now we just need the perfect shirts.”

“How about this?” Saundra asked, holding a pink tube top against her chest.

I rolled my eyes and obliged. Who was I to put out her spark or dampen her excitement? When your best friend wants to look like a baby prostitute, you let her!

“Do you think we can look in your sister’s room for her black rolling stones t-shirt?” I asked.

“Why would you want to wear that? It’s all torn and faded.”

“It will make me look edgy and plus, I like the Stones!”

“You are one odd, little, black child,” she teased.

“Ha. Let’s just get the shirt before your sister catches us in her room.

Fully clad in our self-defined outfits of absolute crazy, sexy, cool, we were ready to tiptoe our adolescent asses out onto Saundra’s back porch and down the street to the party.

It was better than anything I could have expected. We were the only freshmen there but no one said anything to us or kicked us out like Saundra was afraid of, there was not one adult in sight and I could have sworn I smelled beer.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice spoke behind us, making us both jump. It was the party’s host.

“Do I know you?” he asked as we turned to face him.

“Um,” I said.

“Er,” my best friend said.

He smiled at our innocence. He asked my name and I told him. Those were the last words between us that night. From that moment on he had eyes for no one but Saundra.

“Could I get you a drink?” he asked her.

“Sure,” she replied, bashfully.

The rest was history. They’d fall in love deeper and deeper every day from that moment on. They were perfect. It was gross. I pretended not to care.

It was only moments later that I met Luke. Abandoned by my bestie, I stood alone at the punch bowl trying my hardest not to look lost.

“Are you in my Trig class?” he asked, suddenly standing right next to me.

“What?” I said, jumping a bit and dropping the punch bowl ladle.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.”

“So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“In my Trig class.”

“Oh, yeah, um, yes.”

“I thought so.”

He was hard to look at, even harder not to look at. It was damn near impossible not to get lost in his eyes. There was no map accurate enough to get a girl out of that wonderland. Even back then, Lucas Hamilton looked like sex on two legs. He was tall, dark and handsome with a blinding smile and magnetic personality.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” he said with his hands raised, snapping me out of my trance.

“Huh? What? Tell you what?”

“I asked what your name was.”

“Oh, sorry, I’m Olivia.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Olivia. I’m Luke.”

“I know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I, um, I, I heard someone calling your name earlier.”

“Of course,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Do you know Steve?” he continued.

“No. I don’t, I don’t really know anyone here. I don’t exactly belong here.”

“Hey, any fan of the Stones is a friend of mine and I was in charge of half of the guest list so, Olivia…”

He held out his hand to me.

“…will you be my guest?”

My heart fell out of my vagina.

As if in slow motion, my left hand reached out to him. Before I could make contact with the man I would love for the rest of my life, a petite ball of blonde bubbliness literally leaped into his arms. He had no choice but to catch her.

“Luke! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she said, her legs now wrapped around his waist.

“Hey, Chrissie,” he said, cupping her ass and not putting her the fuck down.

If I had a gun, I would have shot her. Okay, I wouldn’t have, but still.

She lowered her head and whispered something in his ear that plastered an instant smile on his face.

Yep, definitely would have shot her.

He carried her off and turned back to me.

“Have some more punch and don’t forget; you’re my guest. If anyone messes with you, you let me know.”

And just like that, he was gone.

I spent the rest of the night sitting outside of a closet, waiting for Saundra and Steve to stop sucking face so we could go.

Luckily, unluckily, okay maybe luckily for me, Steve and Luke were best friends. As Steve and Saundra got closer and closer, Luke and I spent more time together by default. We were the best friends left behind. I was his instant consolation prize. He, my instant target for unrequited love.

It’s been twelve years of pure torture.

He’s the player type meaning, he’s a downright player. He used to ask me for advice about girls but after Maxine Shell broke his heart back in college, he didn’t need any more advice; he knew how to play the game. Treat girls like shit, they will yell at you, then sleep with you, then you leave them, rinse and repeat. He was the ultimate bad boy, the asshole that stupid girls couldn’t stay away from. His behavior was nauseating but through it all we remained friends. I could see through his bullshit. Everything that lied right past the façade was beautiful and pure…and still fine as hell. Those were the parts I focused on.

“Where did you go?”

“Huh?”

I snapped back to reality. I was back on that dance floor, back in his arms, back in this present moment that didn’t feel too much different from standing in front of that punch bowl all those years ago.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” I said.

“I know. I like it.”

“When I think?”

 “When you get lost like that. I always wonder where you go.”

“Oh please,” I responded playfully, pushing him away from me.

He pulled my back into his arms and held me tightly, our bodies melting to one and moving together.

“I mean it. I wonder what you’re thinking all the time.”

“Luke, you and I both know the only thing you’re ever wondering about is the color of this chick’s thong or what line would work on that chick’s tiny brain.”

He laughed with me, knowing it was true.

“You’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”

“No one knows you like I do. So, stop tryna front.”

Yes, ma’am,” he replied with nothing more than that dazzling smile that makes my knees go out every time, every damn time.

He held me tighter. He had to.

The air was thick, my head was spinning and I needed a minute.

“I’m going to get some water from the bar, you want anything?” I asked.

“No, I’m alright.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back. Try not to fall into an entire sea of pussy while I’m gone.”

“Fuck you, friend.”

“Fuck you too.”

Her name was Olivia. She’d been my absolute best friend for twelve years and she had no idea how much I loved her.

Breaking Up With William

“You realize you’re crazy, right?”

“Why am I crazy? Just because I’m fabricating outrageous stories for a chance to connect with the man I’m desperately in love with?”

“Please tell me that’s rhetorical.”

 “The stories aren’t even that outrageous. They’re things that could totally be happening to me.”

“Yeah, but they’re not.”

“But they could.”

“But they’re not.”

“I know they’re not, but…”

“You, an intern, are asking Devin, the Head of the entire Marketing Department, for relationship advice on this ‘whirlwind love affair’ you’re having with all of these ups and downs, twists and turns, where you’re over the moon one day and distraught the next because Devin is the ‘only man you know that can give you the guy’s perspective on exactly what you should do’ except Devin doesn’t know, and will probably never know, that your torrid love affair with ‘William’ doesn’t exactly exist because William himself doesn’t actually exist.  And this all seems like a perfectly logical plan on how to get a guy to notice you?”

“Of course!”

“Are you insane?”

“It’s innovative dating. A girl’s got to have an angle.”

“It’s not innovative. It’s tired and trite. You’re trying to get a guy to like you by making him feel jealous and threatened by what in actuality amounts merely to an imaginary friend. You’re trying to play this ‘angle’ where you treat Devin like he’s nothing more than a gay best friend or a shoulder to cry on, naturally making him fall in love with you and wish with all of his might that you pined away after him like you do with William. Men, women, everyone, they’ve been doing this shit for years but they never stop to think about what happens when the truth comes out and you’re seen as nothing more than a pathetic liar who’s actually not valuable at all because it’s actually YOU that’s delivering those flowers to your desk at work and giving yourself those hickies that you desperately ‘try to hide’ and then not only does he only see you as a friend, or you know, JUST THE INTERN, which was the case all along because your stupid plan was never working, he will NOW see you as a stalkerish, deranged pest that’s so childish and desperate for a date that he couldn’t possibly speak to you ever again…like ever, for the safety of himself and his future family. I mean, how is he supposed to explain the psycho stalker girl from his past to his future wife? Ain't nobody got time for that!”

“Um, harsh!”

“Well, it’s true!”

“Look, listen to me, alright. Just listen. This can work. My plan is solid, completely tight. I’ve been talking to Devin about all of my issues with William for weeks now but this is the next step. It’s the most important step.”

“What is the most important step?”

“Don’t be facetious. I’m being serious.”

“Apologies. The important step.”

“William and I are breaking up this weekend.”

“That’s the step?”

“Yes, the most important step. I’ll come in to work on Monday, run straight into Devin’s office and dive deep into every heartbreaking detail of my break up with William. His face will light up. He’ll think, ‘Here’s my chance. She’s so sad. She’s like a cute little puppy. She’s vulnerable. She’s single!’ and then boom, BOOM! He’ll practically pounce on me right then and there but he won’t; he won’t because he’s a gentleman and respects me. Instead, he’ll be coy. He’ll act as if he’s taking pity on me, really feeling sorry for my sorrows…”

“Oh, there will definitely be sorrow.”

“…and he’ll sigh deeply and pause. In his mind he’ll keep reminding himself not to smile too wide, not to allow his pulsing love to reveal itself on his face. He’ll have so many emotions to control! He’ll be so incredibly nervous because he’s about to do it. He’s finally about to make his move. It will be glorious. He’ll look up at me and say, ‘Ok, look, I’ve been there. It hurts. Breakups are just awful, I mean, the absolute worst.’ He’ll grow in courage and in undesirable urge to touch me. He’ll take my hand and say, ‘Why don’t you let me buy you a drink. You look like you could use a drink. You look like a beautiful girl that was dumped by an absolute jerk and could use a drink.’”

“No.”

“No?”

“Make it so you’re the one that broke up with William. Don’t be too pathetic.”

“You’re right. He’ll take my hand and say, ‘You know what, you were always too good for William. Good for you for finally taking action and dumping that loser. You shouldn’t even be upset by this breakup. You should be celebrating. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to take you out for a drink. That’s right, a celebratory drink because damn it, you deserve it.’ My eyes will light up and I’ll sniffle away my fake tears and give him that smile, you know the one. I’ll say, ‘You know what? You’re right. This was a great idea. Breaking up with William is the smartest thing I’ve done all year and it’s already October! I think I’ll take you up on that offer, Sir. Let’s get a drink.’ And that’s when he’ll smile, you know the one, and he’ll think, ‘Got her,’ without even realizing I, I in fact, I am the one that just got him. It will be glorious!”

“Damn it.”

“What?”

“You just might be right.”

“I mean, duh!”

“It’s still totally pathetic but I can’t help but fully support your crazy. You got this.”

‘I mean, duh!”

        *****

“Well, how did it go? Did he buy it!?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“See, I knew that bitch was crazy.”