An a$$ kind of love

Your wannabe interest and my wannabe interest in going out, partying hard, and getting laid was strong enough to bring us together. It’s a bit weird having this type of a mindset for someone who’s commonly seen as a pretty oddly-reserved-for-no-apparent-reason type of person. You were everything that I objectified; dark haired and creamy skinned. And I was everything you objectified; dark haired and petite… as you say. It was love when I saw you by the swimming pool with trunks clung about your behind, and by the window at night; I saw you from another building window
your body fit and statuesque like that of a Greek god
as you took your shirt off near a fan amid hot weather
that memory is forever imprinted in my mind like some rom com. I probably looked like shit that day with my old shirt on,
but you always stood out like arm candy. If you’d known what I thought, you’d probably say I’m being too hard on myself, but it’s tough being with a guy that you believe looks better than you.

I mean, you’re always smiling, even when you’re annoyed; you got this curve about your lips and chicks come running at your feet… I mean, I did. Maybe I was just a number one fan. But anyway, it was the best thing ever
having nothing else in common but our interest for making out and grabbing each other. I think the deepest conversation we ever had was on the beach that night when I asked you what you were thinking, and you gave the most ‘umm… like are we supposed to be thinking?’ type of pause and said something pretty cute and mediocre like, “It’s a nice night… I’m with a nice girl…” Inside I thought, ‘that’s it?’ but looking back, welp, that was it indeed… and hey, it was honest.

Good times, nice ass, and a lot of funny situations. We had the most amount of smiles and never really talked.

He said I was the best girlfriend he ever had, and likewise, he was the nicest piece of a$$ I ever got. Man it was so fun. I love him forever and deeply, just because of that.

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Vacant wedding

“Maybe I’ll have a song like this in my wedding,” she quickly thought and told her friend, while dancing out of sync with a drink in one hand. Her lips were frozen in a half smile, and her eyes were distant. She almost fell down, but her friend gathered her up. That would have been painful, thought the friend… considering how out-of-shape she was. The woman continued to dance, bending her knees up and down. The friend thought about her own toddler nephews who danced like that. The woman’s looped up shawl moved to the side, exposing an unkempt tattoo on her upper arm. From the distance, it looked like a big black mole over her pale cottage-cheese like arm. A song that the woman liked began to play, and she began shouting it out of tune. Tonight was the highlight of her year. She hadn’t had this much fun in months. Tonight was an opportunity to drink. Tonight was an opportunity to block out all the issues in her life until the next day. But she’d been doing that all her life anyway; all forty-five years.

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