She is probably the most promising individual I have ever met in my life. One would be attracted to her in the eye, though this should not be equated to the attraction of the mind. She has been physically gifted of bodily assets that can send even the most decent man to salivation.
She is like food—tempting, but nauseating She is sweet, if that word means edible. I am connected to her in the most uncomfortable way. Other people even often find it idiotic for me to be in any way near her—worse, friends with her. I know her, casually (and there is such a thing!), but there is nothing deep-rooted to that. In a recent conversation I have had with her this week, she told me she was unhappy for reasons she refused to divulge. She feels like her life suddenly became routinary and that she’s bored of her ho-hum activities. None of my business, I suppose. The conversation, fortunately, did not go any deeper. As of now, all I know is the scab of her unhealing wound. Anyway, I met up with her yesterday—accidentally. I know it sounds scriptedly coincidental, but believe it. Again, we did something we are most comfortable of doing—smoking. She was waiting for a male friend so I decided to keep her company over a bottle of white wine. The conversation became something I hoped I did not expect…Being friends with your boyfriend’s ex is more of a research for me than a dog hunt. She feeds you subliminal, sugar-coated informations about the person you both have in common. In the first place, she knows more things than you, she has been there, and she has done that. Consequently, these information may or may not have a direct impact on your judgment—and I am always the judge. She may be more knowledgeable than me, but hey, I know better.
And I still do, up to this day.
No comments:
Post a Comment