sewn

You make fun of me because I listen to AC/DC and head bang to Bon Jovi.
You make fun of me because of my raspberry pink toe nails and cotton candy flip flops.
You make fun of me because of my frizzy hair and even frizzier attitude.
“Try John Frieda.” You say as if Mr. Frieda has the answer to all of my questions.
Could I ask Mr. Frieda why you don’t love me?
Could I ask Mr. Frieda why I stay?

“It’s the sex”
I sit across of Yoli, her dark brown eyes look past me as I wait for the explanation.
“You are with D because of the sex.”
“That sounds simple enough.”
“It is that simple. You can’t be alone, he happens to be good in bed. BAM! And there you have it.”
“A perfectly parasitic relationship?” The words tumble out of my mouth with out meaning too. How sad am I?
Yoli shrugs and utters nothing. But her hidden frown says it all.
“I can leave him and find some one else.”
“Sure you can.”
“I WILL!” I say it louder desperate not to seem defensive.
“I know you will.” Yoli replies her voice singsong once again. “And I think I know just the man!”

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July 27, 2007. C'est Moi, dating, men.

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