assigning pronouns

Posted: November 9, 2010 in proselytizaytion
Tags: , , , ,

You tucked your nice shirt into expensive shoes and dabbed some aftershave along your jawline. I thought about how I would no longer be able to run my tongue along that edge, because of the burning taste of synthetic smells. I stared at you getting ready in my bathroom mirror and said nothing.

People smiled at you as we walked, and you noted this to me as we went along. I said that people are more likely to respond in kind; if you smile at them, they’re more likely to smile back.

I was not smiling.

I trailed behind you slightly, hesitant and in a fog of confused thought. You picked up flowers in front of me and then took me through the liquor department for a…champagne. I stared at the shiny, dustless bottles, completely lost. I used to have a job that included dusting liquor bottles.

Women looked at you, and then looked at me with questions in their eyes. I looked at the floor most of the time thinking about status.

You knew I didn’t drink. You knew I didn’t like cut flowers. You knew what my idea of a good time was. We’d already been at it for hours. Who was this then? What were we doing?

I was wondering the same thing those girls wanted to know: What were we doing together? No. I wanted to know…who the fuck this was dragging me around in some false bravado parade. I felt sick. I felt like I’d made a mistake.

It was the only time I felt like I made a mistake letting you in.

I had nothing…but you were welcome to all I had. Now, there was this. This gimmick of romance, and I was supposed to…I wasn’t sure. Was I supposed to be happy? Grateful? Perhaps, I was supposed to feel privileged and proud.

I just felt sick, so you took me home. You drank alone for a while, and then you went out to the bars.

Do you remember?

I didn’t leave the building. I…left my room, because I didn’t want to see you. I didn’t want you to crawl into bed with me after that and think everything was okay.

I wasn’t okay.

When you left, I think I asked you not to bring any other girls back. If you wanted to stay out; if you wanted to go back to their places…I looked at you in your nice shirt and clean slacks. Sigh…I told you to find a better girl, but not to bring her back to my place.

I never saw you wear that shirt again.

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