(no subject)
melanie is one talented individual...
in other words she wrote this, it is part of one of her stories...so far so good
So I met a boy today. He wasn’t your average run-of-the-mill boy though. He was genuinely sweet. Like walk you to your front door sweet. And I know I find myself saying that a lot. Pre-I want to know where we stand. Pre- I don’t understand why he’s not calling me anymore. So basically pre-sex. Because we all know sex ruins everything. It can make or break you.
But that’s besides the point. The point is this guy, Sean, was “the guy.” And by “the guy” I mean he’s the stuff dreams are made of. The kind of guy that 13 year old girls talk about during slumber parties. The kind of guy every girl plans to lose their virginity to, marry, map out their future with. The guy who pulls out your chair for you. The guy who understands when you say that you can pull out your own chair because dammit, you’re a feminist! He’ll never grow up to beat you. Never belch and ask for another beer with his hand down his pants. Never call you a bitch. Never divorce you. Never disrespect you. Never...well, you get the picture. The sad part is you know he just doesn’t get the girls. Not with his looks getting in the way. It’s really sad. I don’t know any girls that would even consider seeing him. Hell, I wouldn’t do him. I would trade in all of the above for one night of steamy passionate, back scratching, lip biting, scream like you’ve never screamed before sex with Brad Pitt. So my question now is what’s wrong with us? What’s wrong with me?
So I gave him my number. And told him to call me sometime.
in other words she wrote this, it is part of one of her stories...so far so good
So I met a boy today. He wasn’t your average run-of-the-mill boy though. He was genuinely sweet. Like walk you to your front door sweet. And I know I find myself saying that a lot. Pre-I want to know where we stand. Pre- I don’t understand why he’s not calling me anymore. So basically pre-sex. Because we all know sex ruins everything. It can make or break you.
But that’s besides the point. The point is this guy, Sean, was “the guy.” And by “the guy” I mean he’s the stuff dreams are made of. The kind of guy that 13 year old girls talk about during slumber parties. The kind of guy every girl plans to lose their virginity to, marry, map out their future with. The guy who pulls out your chair for you. The guy who understands when you say that you can pull out your own chair because dammit, you’re a feminist! He’ll never grow up to beat you. Never belch and ask for another beer with his hand down his pants. Never call you a bitch. Never divorce you. Never disrespect you. Never...well, you get the picture. The sad part is you know he just doesn’t get the girls. Not with his looks getting in the way. It’s really sad. I don’t know any girls that would even consider seeing him. Hell, I wouldn’t do him. I would trade in all of the above for one night of steamy passionate, back scratching, lip biting, scream like you’ve never screamed before sex with Brad Pitt. So my question now is what’s wrong with us? What’s wrong with me?
So I gave him my number. And told him to call me sometime.