|when the dork is hot and you've got time|
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2004-07-24 - 8:07 p.m.
sitting on the couch or bed or cash register bench, he says smart things to you while you look into his blue eyes. you start to count the years between you two. 5, no you are guessing. you dont know his birthday. you dont even know how to pronounce his last name. it could be 5 3/4 years. ewww..that is a lot. you realize you havent counted years in fractions for at least 11 1-4 years. but if you are me, still insist on birthday cards on your half birthday in november. tuning back into the conversation you left for moment of mental math, hes chiming along about a classis literature author you've never heard of. you put your brain muscles to work. you blurt something remotely intelligent about william faulkner because the harderst book you've read besides ivanhoe (you cant remeber who wrote that god awful book) is the sound and the fury. he seems interested in your opinion of smart things.
you have many common interests.
you have several common interests.
you know you have at least one common interest that you can talk about for hours on end.
he admires great philosophers, you enjoy naps. he schedules. you bought a schedule book once because you got a middle managment job and you thought it went with the "image".
he is sexy in a nerdy way. you are hotter. you know it. you know this should be easy for you. but you like the fact you almost feel inadequte measured up to his potential. you've maximized and used up all of yours. he has excellent growth potential. you decide you really like that.
did you remember those blue eyes? you check back into the conversation. shit...he brought up as i lay dying, another faulkner book. unfortunately, after barely getting through the first book, you prefer shop-a-holic and beach reads. you even like celebrity zines.
he has collected stuff from trips to middle eastern europe and south of the sahara africa. you've been to disney world once. you consider yourself a city person because you visit new york, chicago, or atlanta frequently.
he has a job. you have roommates.
hes one of your ex's best friend's friends brother. somehow this could end up bad. your contemplating celibacy....the second time around.
you know that even if you fuck him, and its good, it wont be. sex is the ending. and you prefer beginings. or at least options. or open endings. at least with an open ending this could be the greatest of love affairs with no akward goodbyes. he could be your last call of the day, twice maybe three times every other week. it could be an ending that you both walk away having discovered the revitalizing benefits of a mid-day nap or a schedule book.
you want an ending with hope. but not a blind naiive hope. just a cautious hope.
you notice he has stopped talking. your both lying, sitting or embracing in the moments before a kiss. maybe the lights are off but you can still see him smiling. maybe your boss is in the backroom and its all the more enticing. after weighing the options and having brought what mediocre or fantastical relationship this could be all the way to marriage and death parting or worse, to a one night situation with a promise to call and an 'i told you so' feeling from your conscience you should have never slept with him, you and mr. blue eyes kiss.
it feels good, and for that microscopic piece of time you are actually paying attention. you arent analyzing his facial imperfections and you dont think he is staring at the pimple square on your forehead.
he is there, 5 years older and all. you are there, well until your nap....you are so there.
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