Saturday, December 30, 2006


I used to be pretty impulsive. Well, that's probably putting it very nicely. Because not only was I impulsive, but I was irrationally impulsive. Which is probably worse. You'll either love and admire my spontaneous nature and wish you could think more like me or you'll hate and resent it because you can't live your life the same way. There is no gray area.

Once I hit college, I calmed down a bit. It was partially because I didn't have the same conditions in my life that caused me to be so impulsive in the first place. It was partially because my sister spent alot of time talking alot of sense into me when I wanted to do alot of craziness when we first got to Howard. And it was partially because I didn't wanna be "that girl" anymore. You know, the one that is reliably unstable? The nomad, the vagabond. I've been called a free spirit more times than I can count.

So maybe I think a lil outside the box. Maybe I live my life and govern myself a lil differently than others. But still...

Throughout my years at Howard, I grew to become much calmer, much more poised, far more thoughtful than impulsive. I took it as a sign that I was growing up, that I was becoming far less ghetto than I'd been in the past, lol.

But then, something happened.

During senior year I noticed I'd do little things that I hadn't done in years. My temper wasn't as in check as it had been. What little tact I did have had all but gone to shit. I'd say and do just about anything without thinking it all the way through because, dammit, I didn't want to. I was tired of thinking. I wanted to DO.

It felt great.

Even now, I find myself doing and things that this time last year I'd never even think of. Case and point, yesterday as the old white man decided he wanted to step off the curb as I was driving down the street and then HIT the window of my truck what do I do? I throw my shit in pakr and get outta my car cussin'. After I got back in the truck and drove away, I had to giggle at myself. And then I was full on hysterically laughing so hard I had to pull over because I couldn't stop saying to myself, "girl what were you THINKING?!?!"

But it felt sooo good.

Di I really not change or mature like I thought? Or did I just repress my nature only to have it fight it's way out again?

I'm not sure at this point. But sometimes I feel like I'm bursting at the seams. And sometimes I don't think I ever had seems to begin with, just hastily folded corners, reinforced with old scotch tape that aren't really holding up now.

And I'm kinda excited about that too.

It feels so good to be back.

The Mirror has Two Faces

My days feel thrown off. Everything is a little to the left. It's a strange feeling because I've just never felt it I don't guess. But I feel unplugged. Kinda... off. My days just don't seem to flow together right.

And it's all because Psuedo is outta town.

Usually when he leaves DC and travels to destinations hereto referred to as "Away", it's always difficult to keep in touch because he's doing the family thing and I'm convinced everyone he knows lives in a swamp because his cell signal gets pretty nonexistent. It drives me crazy when he's away because until then I never really realize how much of an effort we make to include each other in our day to day lives even though he's in DC and I'm in Godforsaken Redneckland. (Lol!) To not get a message from him when I wake up in the morning feels strange. To not get a text in the middle of the day just because makes the day plod along so awkwardly. I just feel so... off.

The funny thing is I hate being clocked. I hate it. Hate checking in. HATE. Maybe I'm just too independant, too stubborn, too whatever but I can't stand to feel like I'm being controlled or clocked. But he's got me doing it. And it's crazy, because I never have before. And NOT being able to do it now while he's away is like... it's got me feeling fuzzy around the edges.

But at the same time I have to fight with myself. Part of me goes, "do you really wanna feel this way forever? Do you really like being this wrapped up in someone? Why don't you have a back up plan?" But then another part of me goes, "girl you'd be the dumbest broad alive to mess this up. Get it together." I guess the good news is, I'm fighting. The bad news is that I even have to.

Monday, December 25, 2006

Oh, Fuck This

I realized at work today that it was almost Christmas and I hadn't written my annual "Booooo Hissssss Christmas" post. I tried as long as I could to keep my irritation with this tacky, gaudy holiday in check but everyday my irritation has grown. It started with the house on the corner. Everytime I come home from working retail during the worst possible time of the year, there are new lights SOMEWHERE on this house. First it was the multicolored candy cane lights lining the driveway. Then, the string of white lights that look like they were just thrown at the one bare, sad ass tree in the yard. Then came the snowman. Then santa. As the days went on, more tackiness seemed to just appear from nowhere. Now, it just looks like the whole damn house is on fire. And then there's the customers at my job. Somehow I've gotten to be the person at work who everyone defers the evil customers to. So I've been cussed out AT LEAST 1,385 times. Isn't this goddamn season supposed to be what brings out the best in people?


Maybe if I wasn't in Texas isolated from the majority of my family it wouldn't suck so much. Probably not true though.

Sitting in waffle house tonight, I was struck by how much my life has changed in the last year. I'll get into the specifics in a later post, but it's just funny. So much so that I burst out laughing in the middle of eating. Everyone looked at me like I was nuts. It happens.

I know Christmas won't suck forever. Maybe I've never really had a good Christmas but it won't always be this way. I know it'll be up to me to make Christmas a happy and joyous time of year for my own family when I start one.

But I don't have a family.

So until then, excuse me while I try to figure out how to assasinate a mechanical reindeer without getting caught.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Daddy's Girl

Today was one of those days that it seemed like winter was in remission. It felt like fall out. And while I was driving and enjoying the sun with the sunroof in Marley open, I remembered that I needed to call my daddy back.

From 3 days ago.

"Hey," he says jovially as his phone flips, calling me by my first and middle names as though it is a hybrid. He is the only person who can call me that without it feeling like scolding.

Most of our conversation consists of laughter and the sounds I make to answer his questions kinda like:

Daddy: So how you liking Texas?
Me: Meh.
Daddy: It can't be that bad. I know work is driving you nuts and you're probably needing your own space but it's not so bad. You have to learn to not be alone so much.

He got all that from, "meh."

We talk for the better part of an hour and finally get around to the enevitable conversation of me living in Atlanta. He tells me my brother was looking forward to me moving back after graduation. I think back to how much fun he and I had when I was home for his birthday and the guilt makes my stomach fall to the floor.

Me: Well Daddy that was my plan, to be in Atlanta. I dunno if it's where I'll stay but it's where I wanna be right now. I was looking forward to it.
Daddy: I know you were baby. Me too.

The backs of my eyeballs sting with tears I won't let fall because I'm driving. He's got That Voice. You know the one big tough daddies use when they're trying to tell someone something emotional. I smile on the inside. And then I laugh to myself. I may look and sound like my mama, but I've got my daddy's temperment. It's hilarious to me.

We talk some more and I realize that somehow he manages to talk to me like I'm an adult, not his only daughter, and that, for some reason makes me feel like I'm about 8 years old, still poking him in his sides to make him wake up and cook me breakfast. I say very little as I'm accustomed to doing, but he gets it. He knows what I'm feeling or thinking even when I fail to articulate it. I don't think he realizes how comforted it makes me feel. I know that it must be strange for him to watch his little girl grow up, I know it must be hard for me to be so independent when all he wants to do is be my daddy. He manages it gracefully though.

I think forward to the day I'll introduce him to Psuedo, and I giggle because I can already see them getting along. I think backward to all the mornings I went to work with him, riding shotgun in his old Celica, eating donuts and talking to my daddy about anything that came to mind. I can see him walking me down the aisle and holding his grandchildren in his big calloused hands. Hearing his voice on the phone makes me imagine I can almost feel one of his big bear hugs whenever I get home. He lets me be me. And somehow he still manages to be my daddy too.

When I was a little girl, I'd follow him around the house, we'd wrestle and laugh, I'd jump on his head while he was in bed, sit on the floor of the kitchen while he cooked. But my favorite thing to do was climb up on his lap, and curl up in a tight little ball, my head resting in the crook of his arm. I remember crawling up there many times when I was sick or sad or just wanting to. Hell if I was in Atlanta, I'd probably do it now.

But since I'm not, I just talk to my daddy and hope that if he's somehow found peace with the woman I've become, then I can too.

And I hate it for whoever I end up with because they're gonna have it rough trying to fill my daddy's shoes.

Sunday, December 10, 2006



So... Psuedo sent me this in response to what I wrote down there and um... told me to post it. So... that's what I'm doing. And... well... um, I... I'm blushing far too hard to continue typing.

*she runs away hiding her face"

From the first time I laid eyes on her I knew this woman would change my life. In what way I didn't know at the time, but I knew something was in store.

She has these little feet that always strike right to the hood in me when she wears air forces. I can honestly say I wanted to massage her feet the first time I saw her. I don't do feet, but she gets numerous massages, and all kinds of attention paid to hers. Her lips are soft and sweet. Some would call 'em luscious but I call her Ducky cause they always look like they're ready to be kissed, and because they make her look like Ducky from Land Before Time (and because of her squeaky ass voice when she's blushing or just excited). Her legs and thighs are what a country boy like myself calls yams. Ya know, good enough to eat. Wait, she got ass, put that in there. I'm usually pretty cool with mine, but I've crossed my eyes many day watching her walk away. Left, right, left, right. Good lawd. She could ask me to go to the moon and get her a sack of Krystal burgers and chances are if she's asking while wearing those damn shorts I like then I'll call NASA and tell them niggas I gotta dub on the gas shawty. Never have I been a breast man, but I have been converted and now I head up the fan club (Eyes up niggas!) Let's just say her in wife beaters, I need that. Umm damn, yea, I'm back. Her hair, even though she changes it more then her draws is so soft, and I love playing in it. Her hands, which I think she finds weird, are so small and sexy, I always find myself holding her hands, and I'm really no hand holder, but I like 'em. And last her beautiful brown eyes. She damn near had me the first time I looked in them.

I don't tell anybody anything for the most part. My life is mine and very few are allowed into it. The first day we met I told her more about me in one hour than people who have known me years. Her combination of class and her ability to relate to me almost confused me. We debate for hours about anything from white people* to religion. She's soooo smart, I feel like if nobody knows the answer, she does. She's the kind of girl people either love or hate for the same reason; cause she's really just that fly. She's stubborn as hell though. You have to talk (or yell) her into taking medicine, or not self medicating illness with margaritas. She always has a bullshit excuse, a very well spoken excuse for her stubborness, but still bullshit all the same. I think it's cute. She doesn't like to be alone, and I guess that's how we connected from jump; we're both used to being abondoned. We even get mad if one of us falls asleep on the phone... No, like the guilty one is really in trouble, lol. She's tough as nails, but sensitive at the same time. Kinda like a tootsie pop, you just gotta get to the middle (that wasn't nasty, you'll know when it is, lol). Did I tell you how funny she is, and how she laughs at her own jokes? So no matter how funny it is you have to laugh too. She actually likes sports. The first time she came over we watched the NBA finals and she knew what was going on, like for real. Most importantly she's honest, so honest that I've been hurt a few times, but she keeps it trill and I repspect her more then anyone I know because of it. A smart, sensitive, stubborn, caring, loyal, funny, talented, shit talking dimepeice. Yeah that's her.

What I like
I like the way she lookes in my t-shirts. It's almost like her walking around the house wearing a 'me billboard' with her legs showing which starts this thing some people call drooling. I like the way she shivers when I suck her bottom lip. I like how she goes to sleep on my chest and how good her hair smells. I like how she has managed to put me in check and make me like it. Still trying to figure that shit out. I like how she always washes my back in the shower because I can't reach it, and she's a lot more gentle then I am, lol. I love how she gets excited about any new tattoo I get. I like her frisky messages from work that put me on 10 for an entire day and how she manages to make me seem like the freak (its about 50/50, depending on the day). I like how she makes me think of things I've never thought of. I like how she makes me wanna do things I've never done. Then do it again cause it was poppin' the first time, lol. I like how she apologizes, even for small things; sometimes I just like apologies. I like how she makes up my bed all the time. I can never do it like her so it hasn't been made it months. Fuck it. I like when she rolls her eyes at me when I say I don't have groupies cause leave it to her I'm the sexiest dude walking the earth. I've never had a honeymoon, but if the sex we have is like that everybody should do it 4-5 times a day; we do. I like how she catches everything I do, even me sneaking to smell my damn towels to make sure they're bounty fresh for her**. Nothing gets past her. She's like a hood columbo with ass and blond hair (depending on the day, it could be black, red, orange looking etc.) I like her style, and even on her clubs nights, I like how she tones it down to make me feel better and stroke my male ego. I like how she manages to talk to me all day while working, showering, shopping, eating, etc. I like how I know in the morning she'll hit me when she wakes her sleepy ass up. I like how she slips and talks about us having kids. I can feel her face getting hot when she does, lol. Actually, I'm wrong, I don't like all that, I love it.
And I love her.

*he called them honkies. I chose to edit, lol

** refers to a time I spent the night which I refered to in "Part One"

Sunday, December 3, 2006

For You

"I have never met someone so dedicated to bullshit. I've never SEEN someone so committed to being unhappy." Psuedo says this to me midway through what will be the third real fight we've ever had in our otherwise happy time of knowing each other. It stops me cold. Is this how he sees me? Is that really what he thinks? He's still talking...
"You catch yourself doing bullshit and you know it. You KNOW IT. Its like you keep waiting for something to go wrong all the time." Is he serious? This is how I am?

Wait. This is how I am? Seriously? Wow.

I'd never heard it put that way before. I was literally speechless. Like, literally. Speechless. And ladies and gents it takes alot to render La speechless. Even now, thinking back on the conversation, I find myself rapidly losing the words I planned to type. I... well, damn. I didn't know it was this bad.

I let Psuedo know he was right in hopes that maybe he'll let up because, truthfully, hearing this man that I've wanted to be with happy with for so long say that to me really hurt my feelings.

He didn't stop of course. Didn't back down a bit.

And that's why he's great, lol. He's always exactly what I need even when I don't wanna hear it.

So this is for you Pseudo. I hope that for once I can say all the things I've never been able to say to you, even when you ask, even when we fight. I hope you can see that despite what I'm used to, I really do wanna be happy with you...


When I drive, or when he drives, he holds my pinkie finger with his while our hands rest on the gear shift. (Why we both drive with our hands there is beyond me seeing as how we both drive automatics, lol.) He says my name differently than he says everything else and he came up with hands down the cutest nickname I've ever had. I told him that I didn't know he did it but I love when he watches me sleep. When I'm half awake and I feel him watching me, it makes me feel cherished. He lets me watch what I wanna watch on tv. When we're in his car and I absentmindedly touch his buttons on his radio, he doesn't slap my hand away, although I know it's a cardinal Man Sin to let any woman who touches your radio go unpunished, lol. He asks me about my day. Not everyday, just enough for me to know that he really wants to know, not because it's routine. I'm the first person he talks to when he wakes up and the last one he talks to before he goes to sleep. He lets me know when he's thinking about me. He asks me how Joy is doing because he loves her. He gets upset when I tell him he can't meet my daddy. He offered to teach me how to fish just because I said I wanted to try it. He makes me slow down and act my age. He reminds me not to think so damn much. He started a list of all the things we need to do together so he wouldn't forget. (Football games, fixing me BBQ with his grandaddy's secret recipe.) He held me while I cried over another man. When I tell him about things he does that bother me, he makes an effort to ammend them. He plays in my hair when I can't sleep. He makes me feel valuable. He does other things to me to put me to sleep when I can't get to sleep after playing in my hair doesn't work, lol. He makes an effort to talk to me and tell me what he's thinking, even though he's not all that good at it. If any person on this earth caused me any kind of harm, I know God himself would have to part the clouds and come down just to keep him from doing something that would cause us to be fugitives for forever. He makes me feel safe and protected. When I'm sick, he feels bad when he's not around to take care of me. When I'm happy, his whole face lights up at just seeing me content. When I shut down on him, he knows when to call me on it and when to let it ride.

He tells racist jokes. Which are, like, the best kind. He loves children and one day I hope I'm lucky enough to watch him while he teaches his kids the finer points of football. (Both genders. Our kids would have no choice but to be sports fanatics.) He remembers tiny little things I mention off hand. He admits when he's wrong. He plays the Favorites Game with me when I've had a bad day. He tells me I'm cute when I complain. He doesn't judge me. He doesn't try to change me but he doesn't flinch at telling my my faults either. He thinks I'm pretty first thing in the morning even when I'm hungover or sick, lol. He's honest. Even when it's gonna hurt, he's honest with me. And that's all I ever wanted anyway.

He's talented. So talented that sometimes I have to step back and remind myself that he's a tangible person sitting in front of me. He's loyal. He's kind, though he'd never admit it. He's so intelligent that he even startles me with his insights sometimes. He tells me I'm full of shit. He offers to help me even though he knows I probably won't accept. And he doesn't get mad at me for it. (All the time.)

He tells me I'm beautiful. He gives me strange compliments. Not strange in an uncomfotable way, but moreso in a no-one-ever-bothered-to-notice-that kinda way. He gets angry with me but we never fight just to be mean. We always argue to a resolution. And then it's done. He rubs my feet when we're sitting on the couch. He wakes up with me when I have to go to work early in the morning even though I won't do it for him. (He understand I'm not a morning person, lol) He sends me cute messages for no reason. Not typical sweet stuff, but things that are very us. We have our own way of talking. He showers me with attention. He sends me pictures of himself for no reason. He tells me he misses me and wishes I was a part of whatever he's doing at that particular moment. He makes me feel important. When he tells me he loves me, he's lethally serious and wouldn't never tell me he didn't even jokingly. When we shower together, he never makes me stand out of the water in the cold. He gave me my own side of the bed. He thinks it's cute when I get jealous of the groupies that are drawn to him. Somehow he makes me check in without making me feel like I'm being clocked. When I get a little neurotic, he lets me be crazy for a second. And then he helps me not to be. He's blunt and to the point. No bullshit, no sugar coating. We have random conversations about nothing that can last easily til 5am. We still have honeymoon sex. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. On the rare occassions that I do get brave enough to mention the future I envision for us, he never turns away. He handles me with care. When I do something I shouldn't, he gives me the chance to explain myself rather than jumping to conclusions which I can admit I don't always do for him. He makes me a priority. And he makes us a priority.

He gets jealous of other men and threatens to shake me like a yoohoo even though I know deep down he knows he's got me. Crazy is kinda cute on him. He compliments my hair. He works hard to make sure I'm included in his future. He tells me when he smells someone who wears my perfume and it drives him crazy. He calls me for no reason, but usually not without asking if it's ok first which is ceaselessly cute to me. He keeps my ass in line (which is no small feat.) He never gives me advice unless I ask for it, and even then he lets me know that he's behind me no matter what. He won't let me push him away. He encourages me to be me. He sends me freaky text messages while I'm at work that make me squirm. He says I love you first. He offered to hang out with my little brother so he could have someone to talk to and look up to.

I like how he holds the sides of my face when he kisses me. I like how he reaches out for me in the middle of the night if some part of me, no matter how small, isn't touching him. I like the way he teases Joy. I love the way he walks, that southern swagger obvious to everyone in a 10 mile radius. I like the sound of his laughter. I like his long island ice teas. I like the kinda man he is. I like the plans he has for his life, even when they're still abstract. I like the little voice that he does when he's telling me something sappy and sweet. I like the way he does the things that we do when we're doing the do. I like the way he does the things we do when we're not doing the do. (Lol) I like the tattoo on his shoulder and when he wears red. I like when he gets extra excited about something and gets so damn country I have no idea what he's talking about. I like how he laughs at me when I trip over things. I like catching him looking at my ass when we walk. I like the way he dances. I know that even though he has a bad temper, he'd never raise a hand to me. I like the way his lips move when he talks. I like how he looks in a suit. I like how he talks to me and not at me. I like that he won't allow anyone to disrespect me. I like that when I tell him I need him to be a little more gentle with me when I'm hurting, he is. I love the sound of his voice. I like wearing his shirts to sleep. I like that he still holds me, even when his boys are around. I like that he's patient with me even when I can barely stand myself. I like the fact that even when he doesn't understand, he always tries. And when he can't, he can at the very least respect the way I feel.

I've always wanted to be happy with you. I don't always know how, but that's always what I want. Don't ever doubt that. I think you're right, I think we've matured together. I look at the things we said and did a year ago and I can't believe it's us because we wouldn't even dream of doing half of it now. We've grown up together, in just this short time, and I think we've proven that we can grow together, still compliment each other through changes. I feel like we're building something solid. I know I'm not the easiest person to get to know, to get to love. But it's a journey. And I'm willing to take it if you are.

So, you wanna take this walk with me?

Friday, December 1, 2006

Just a Question

So if I jump, can I bungee or is this like a free fall kinda thing?

Lies, Lies, Lies

The funny thing about lies is it creates a false sense of power, a false sense of comfort. The only truly powerful one, is the one who has the most knowledge the one that, with just a few place words, could destroy it all.

I read something tonight, and it made me shake my head because I knew it was false. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to cry. Mostly because I knew it was half truths mixed with lies that needed so badly to be accepted and believed. I wanted to speak my truth. I know I have the most powerful weapon because I have more knowledge. The player that knows the game the best is usually the one that wins. But sometimes it's not about playing your cards right. Sometimes, it's not about playing at all. Sometimes the best player is the player that holds the hand that they know could wipe out the whole table, but folds anyway. It's not always about winning. Sometimes it's about folding gracefully and walking away from the table.

I am that woman.

I could tell you what I know. The girl I used to be probably would. But the woman I'm turning into just won't let me do that.

So I fold.

Play well Babe.

July 06

I think it might have been raining. Was it? I'm not sure, but I remember catching a cab to your place. (You still owe me $5 by the way, lol) I was nervous. I remember that much. So nervous I closed my hand in the cab door. Kept pulling the hair at the nape of my neck and tapping my foot. I made the cab driver turn on the game so I wouldn't miss anything. And because I knew basketball was really all that was gonna calm me at that point. I got there and you opened the door. You smiled at me. The look on your face. Some sort of mixture of shock and excitement. I couldn't believe I was there either.

I think you took my stuff from me. It's kinda fuzzy. You lingered longer at the door than you probably should have and I knew you were debating if you should hug me, kiss me, or what exactly the situation called for. I was unsure too. I think you gave me a one armed brother hug. I remember feeling a little dejected, thinking maybe you were just playing it cool because your roomate was there. But then you slapped me on my ass. And I don't think you've been able to keep your hands from back there since, lol.

We watched the rest of the game, the three of us, and I remembered you being surprised I was so into it, knew so much. In my mind I was hoping you didn't think I'd just learned some random facts on the way over to impress you. But I do remember wanting to impress you. I remembering being so nervous, just like the first day we met. You kept making me blush. I remember that. I kept raking my hair in my face so you wouldn't see my face turn red.

I remembering the game going off, and then it was just me and you. As you closed the door and hit the lights, the room seemed to shrink. It felt like we were confined to an orbit on which on we existed. I remember fighting not to lose my breath and hoping like hell I looked alot cooler on the outside than I felt on the inside.

You sat on the bed, behind me I think, and I remember where you first touched me. You grabbed my left arm to pull me closer and I remember heat shooting all the way up my limbs, through my neck and to my face. My skin was so hot. You kissed me, your hands tangled in my hair like I've grown acustomed to them being, but back then I could barely contain myself. I remembering holding on to your arms tightly, maybe too tight, trying to fight the feeling of falling inside. You kissed me and my heartbeat fell into my stomach. You kissed me again and it fell a little further south. I remember breaking away because I couldn't breathe. The air around us seemed tight and I couldn't get my bearings. I looked at you and I'd never seen a man look at a woman the way you were looking at me. It felt like we were in trouble. You pushed me backwards and I let myself fall. I remember closing my eyes under the first of many kisses and just letting go.

Afterwards I said to you, "Don't go crazy and get all attatched to me." I don't think I ever told you, but I was talking to myself. I knew what was happening.
"I'm good nigga," you said laughing, and I laughed with you but I turned away so you wouldn't see my eyes. You've always watched me so damn closely. I didn't want you to see what I already knew.

It was the beginninng of the end for you. I was gonna make sure of that.

June 05

"Its like this," I say, my mouth all poised to run down some quick game I haven't used in awhile.
"Oh shut up," he says, laughing at me. "You're about to say some bullshit." I smile. And then I giggle. Before I know it I am holding the phone all out rolling laughing on the floor. This guy...
"No really," I try to start again.
"No really La. You're full of shit."
I laugh again. I'm stuck. I don't know what to say.
"You done?" he asks.
"Yeah, actually. I think I am." We talk for hours, the requisite 1 or 2 hour conversations getting stretched into 6, 7, 8 hour conversations without a pause. The sun starts creeping through my windows and I imagine it's doing the same where he is. My phone battery is screaming at me in protest from over use. He cuts in.

"It's like this..." We both pause. Then we both fall out laughing. After we compose ourselves, he tries again.
"I think I like you," he says. "Well if I'm honest about it, I always liked you. And with all the bullshit that went down I was afraid I'd never get to talk to you like this. So I'm glad I got the chance to. So, yeah. That's all." I smile at the words. He's awkward. And for the first time in a long time, I've got butterflies. Serious butterflies.
"Look," I say and he cuts me off.
"Sounds like bullshit." I laugh because he's right.

"I think I like you too," I say in the tiny voice that means I'm nervous, skeptical of treading this path. He says nothing for a moment and just when I think I'll suffocate under the weight of the silence he says, "That damn near killed you didn't it?" We burst out laughing again. He's so cute. So damn charming. I'm picturing his face in my head. Can't believe I'm even having this conversation.

At the end of our laughter he says to me, "I can't wait to see you." I smile because he sounds sincere, excited, like a little boy who knows Christmas is right around the corner.
"Me too."
"Alright," he says, recovering nicely from that sappy moment. "You done with the bullshit?"
"Yeah," I reply, smiling despite myself, "I really think I am."