Tuesday, April 11, 2006

h e a r t b e a t s

I am such a good flirt in hindsight. I think back over conversations and see, with that clarity of not being in the moment, all these little openings where I could have done or said something very cute and full of subtext. Things I certainly would never think of in the actual midst of the conversation. I never can think too well on my feet in those instances that count. Only in my head, after the fact, am I a witty master of elocution and seduction and suchlike.

And the problem with English is that there is no difference between friendly love and romantic love in our verbs. Someday I want the real thing. Someday I want to walk into the ocean and just let go.

And when I awake from my surreal world. I realize that I am alone, in my room, missing him, not knowing whether he is alone, in his room, missing me too.

Possibly one of the greatest moments in my life will be remembered as follows:

Drinking coffee in an empty university classroom, comparing ex-boyfriends, friends with benefits, and steamy sex. Laughing at our libidos and stupidity. Empty lipstick tubes and hickeys. And buying peppermints and cigarettes.

Because we could.

Used with permission

By Professor Batty


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