I’m sorry you’re disappointed. I’m sorry you feel poorly. But you need to respect her silence. Back off.
“He sat on me and farted. On purpose.”
We part from the rest and on the way back to his, he’s talking me through the hip places to be in his town whilst walking for what feels like forever in the September cold when I feel a very sudden sharp pain in my lower abdomen indicating that my bladder is not happy.
“A few minutes later I received a video of her slashing her wrists.”
No sooner than I conceived of such a sentimental thought, much less completed it, I was pummeled by a — BLASTED in the face by what felt like a love tap from Old Faithful — sending me deep underwater; confused and disoriented, churning around in the salty undertow.
“We had tickets to a Broadway show. I ate something that disagreed with me and shit my pants while running to the bathroom. And to make matters worse, I was wearing a thong.”
Everything is more expensive and packaged together. I don’t want a seven course pre-fixed meal. I just want pizza.
I went to bed alone with some dried mango strips. He said it was a booty call and maybe that’s what it was but I didn’t need that I needed a warm body and a shaggy dog to lick my face.
Without mistakes, you would never be able to learn and find out what works for you. At least you have tried and dared to try.
Do I love my family too much? Is my accent annoying? Did I have something in my teeth? Does my future seem too structured? Is my past not colored enough?