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5/9/17 a monologue?

May 9, 2017

this counts...

 

 

He texts you and suddenly all that "nope, I'm gonna play his game and I'm not texting back right away - fuck that guy he doesn't have the time for me then I'm not gonna give my time to him - if he wanted to be part of my future he'd be part of my present and I DON'T NEED HIM" - all that? Goes flying right out the window.

You are alive. You're fucking ALIVE. You feel your blood, you feel your ovaries, you FEEL YOUR TITS INSIDE YOUR BRA, all because he was thinking of you - he was thinking of YOU, while sitting alone at home, when he had so many people to think about but he was thinking of YOU.

 

You're friends - at least that's the facade you're totally clinging to like a starfish to a coral reef - so why not text him back? Yeah, why not. Just keep it light, that's what friends do - they banter, they chat, it means nothing. It's chill. It's cool. You send your text and OMG HES ALREADY RESPONDING. WHAT IS THIS?! WHAT SORCERY CONVINCED HIM THAT TEXTING BACK AND HAVING AN ACTUAL CONVERSATION WOULD BE SOMETHING A WOMAN WOULD ENJOY ok ok calm down. It's fine. Just...reply. Have the conversation.

 

You put down your phone. You go back to your book... You glance. Pfft whatever. A conversation; that's all this is. A conversation. Con-vo. Friendly, chill. Chillllllllllllllllll.....

 

But, is it going to happen again? Will he keep texting? Is this going to happ- oh fuck no. Remember. You do not care. You do not want to get wrapped up in this guy. You DO NOT. DO NOT CARE.

 

"What are you up to?"

 

 

THE MILLION DOLLAR FUCKING QUESTION! Is he going to ask me to join him at the bar near his place? Will I join him? That wouldn't be so bad, two friends having a drink, catching up, we're friends, we're FRIENDS it's fine - no, no it's not fine because you know exactly what will happen when you drink your two stouts and then walk to the bathroom and come back to two shots waiting for you and that boyish look he gets on his face which is FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE TO IGNORE so you do the shots and you keep talking and laughing and connecting and looking and getting lost in some of the most beautiful but completely dark eyes that mystery novels were WRITTEN FOR AND FUCK IF YOU HAVE THE MENTAL ENERGY TO NOT GO HOME WITH HIM THEM YOU'RE GODDAMN WONDER WOMAN.

 

Get on your own damn train. And go the fuck home.

 

©2017 Emily Dalton

 

 

 

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