LJ Idol Week 2: Deconstruction
I didn’t know I was dating Bill Clinton. His gray hair, his thick southern accent, his…scent should have been a hint.
He told me all the blah-blah-dee-dah shit and I believed every bit.
Later, he swore that he did not chat with that woman…on the internet. He swore he never gave his number to that 18-year old brunette. He swore that I had no reason to frit or fret.
It was when my suspicion grew out of my intuition that I knew. And I began my investigation in his extra-relational flirtation. I saw what I saw. His only defense was that my vision was hazy. And later, he said I was just another crazy. Bitch.
And I believed him until reality really hit the fan. I contacted her and her and her. It was more than I had inferred. It turns out he gave hers more than his number.
I could not huff and I would not puff. But I did blow his fuckin’ house down.
He told me all the blah-blah-dee-dah shit and I believed every bit.
Later, he swore that he did not chat with that woman…on the internet. He swore he never gave his number to that 18-year old brunette. He swore that I had no reason to frit or fret.
It was when my suspicion grew out of my intuition that I knew. And I began my investigation in his extra-relational flirtation. I saw what I saw. His only defense was that my vision was hazy. And later, he said I was just another crazy. Bitch.
And I believed him until reality really hit the fan. I contacted her and her and her. It was more than I had inferred. It turns out he gave hers more than his number.
I could not huff and I would not puff. But I did blow his fuckin’ house down.