“What’s your problem with me?”
“I don’t have a problem with you – What do you mean?”
“You don’t make any effort to see me – when I do.” cowardly, inappropriately, seeking validation, I do, she heard herself continue in her mind.
“You have a lot of expectations”
“What?” Eyebrows furrowed, hands on my waist, “How do you know what I expect?”
“Right. Cuz expecting the same dick inside me every night is a lot to ask of you boys in LA.”
Man, I made it all so serious, so rigid, so matter of fact. No room to breath, doors to go past. Beds to go back to.
Well it was fun you know. It was a real short time. Damn, I miss it. I hate saying I should have, but I should have said: “I miss fun texting you.” Rather than hurled the phone at him silently through the screen. That would have reminded him. At least. Slowed down his inevitable distance .. to a light jog.
I hope next time I’m not as uptight, not as ferocious in my anger – my defensive mannerisms. Or as needy, who was he for me to need anyway.