FML

Did you know?…

That life is full of all kinds of heartaches and heartbreaks and wishes of death on the ex. Evil minded? Possibly. I like to think of it as more of a victim who is lashing out from the mental abuse of a person who was supposed to love her. Exhibit A.

Remember Miles? The fine ass construction guy whom I left with? He was the one who walked into my bar with his own beat booming in my vagina? Yeah! That guy. Well, he and I left that night and we had great conversation until early morning as I lay in his bedroom while the Houston sunlight touched the sheets on his bed and beamed on the black cherry nail polish on my toes. And I don’t know what I was thinking. Somehow, everything about him made me feel so comfortable. He didn’t even try and pressure me for sex. We spoke about everything from crypto currency to the inflated job market and how getting a trade would’ve saved us both from financial headache, although he was blessed with a football scholarship to Texas A&M University that covered mostly EVERYTHING and I wasn’t, yet the conversation still showed that he and I had thoughts in common.  I didn’t see any rings, pictures of exes, baby anything around the house and his phone didn’t even vibrate. BOOM! This just might work is what I thought.

“Holy shit! We actually spent all this time talking.” I got up from the bed and started putting on my clothes. He gave me a t-shirt when we got to his apartment so I could be comfortable. Truth be told, the t-shirt was a plus. I was already planning how I should introduce him to Mom. And this is where the problem began.

“Wait! So you’re going in? Are you even going to have enough energy today to focus on the spreadsheets?” His question had merit. I would probably be drained.

“I think I will be able to manage, unless you have something better planned.” The smile that developed on his face.

“I might.”

“Why are you looking like the cat that ate the canary?”

“Maybe I’m just thinking about how the canary tasted to the cat.”

Watch it now! “Hmmm, I see where your mind is and here I was thinking you was all innocent.”

“It’s not even like that. Let’s go to your house and get you something comfortable to wear.”

“Where are we going?” What the hell? Was I convinced that he was sane enough to show him where I lived?

“Two choices. We can do Galveston orrrrrrr we can drive down to New Orleans.”

“For just a day?” I was definitely with a road trip, but I couldn’t do NOLA for one day.

“You’re right. Pack enough for three days. You won’t get in trouble with your job, will you?”

“No, I can tell them I’m working from home. I should be fine. (I hope so.) So, is this spontaneity something that gets you points?”

“Points for what?” He looked at me curiously.

“Points with the chicks. I mean, lets drive here or go here, does that work with the girls?”

“I don’t know. Seems to be working now.”

“Only because I love Cajun food.”

“Good! Cause you’re buying.”

“Sho you’re right!”

So, I was already in victim mode and I didn’t even know it. He was so sweet, opening doors and listening to me talk about my childhood and things I wanted to accomplish in life. He didn’t judge or cut me off. He waited for my sentences to finish and then he would chime in with his own account of his life and things he wanted to do. He let his hand touch mine a couple times, and eventually he let his hand sit on my left thigh. I didn’t even try to move it once. His hand was soft and warm. His nails, beautiful. They weren’t too low or booty diggers as I like to call them. That’s when the nail on a finger is damn near down to the cuticle. His fingers weren’t too long in length and his nails were perfectly even. He had no scars like I did.

“So why aren’t you married, sir?”

“I just got out of a relationship. It’s complicated. I think we just needed to part ways.”

“How long were you together?”

“Since we were in high school.” I listened for any indication of heartbreak in Miles’s voice.

“Damn! That’s a long time.”

“Ain’t it though? Even harder when the time comes to move on.”

“Who ended it?” And is she in Philly?

“Is that important?” Here’s the bullshit.

I wouldn’t ask.”

“She did.”

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