the life and musings of a kinky slut


~ a story ~

Never read his Twitter feed before bed. If you do, you’ll start dreaming of him even before your eyes close. You’ll wish for what you can’t ever have, imagine a life you’ll never live, and bath yourself in what-ifs til your heart groans.

Never comment on his blog. No matter how awesome you think his latest tattoo is. No matter how sweet his cat looks on his shoulder. No matter how much you just want to say hi. Reconnect. See how his life’s been. You know how his life’s been. You read his blog.

Never mention his name. Your friends are tired of hearing it. Of this new thing he did, this new adventure he’s taking. Maybe he’ll invite you, even though he always forgot your name. Your friends know the reality you are unwilling to accept. Your friends have tried to be kind, patient. Your friends are tiring of your emotional broken record.

Never leave the house without a book. You’ll need to plunge yourself into another world on the bus trip to work. During your lunch break. On the walk back. If you don’t, your thoughts will turn to him. To his pretty brown eyes. His baby face. His trim frame. The way he looks when he’s jogging. When he’s engaging a crowd.

Never look at his Facebook. Ever. You don’t want to know his status update. You don’t want to see her name, whoever she is. The latest in his line of perfect perky girls he’s dating, a string of blonde-haired-blue-eyed-Barbie’s since college. You’ll only print out pictures of her, scratch out the eyes, and draw mustaches all over her face. Facebook is forbidden.

Never go to the reunion without a friend. Preferably someone from high school so they know to distract you when he walks in. Hopefully they’ll get your attention away from the door for more than five minutes in the night. And, when he does arrive, if they are clever, they’ll get you to not notice him for a breath or two.

But, above all else, never speak to him. Not ever again. Because the last time was enough. He didn’t even get the first letter of your name right. Didn’t remember your tutoring him. The study prep. The homework help. The ride home when his car broke down on the side of the road and you just happen to pass by a minute after. He offered you a bit of cash, but you said no. And then he was out of your car, gone into his home. No thankful hug, or a dared dream kiss.

And then graduation, when you were finally going to say it to him. How much you loved him. All the times he’d made you smile just from the beauty of his face. How you couldn’t imagine yourself with anyone else anywhere in the world.

Except he proposed to his girlfriend. Right there. In the middle of it all. And she said yes. And there were cheers. And they were hoisted above the crowd, carried away. And you were left alone as the mass of people emptied out of the gymnasium. And when you’re Mom put her hand on your shoulder and asked if you were okay, you said, “Never better.”.

Categorised as: Gen Fiction

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