That sums up most of my situation with guys.
When you let hopes soar, more or less like taking the steering wheel out of logic’s grasp.
Yes, I admit it. I’m a victim.
I was a victim to those brown eyes, a victim to that big nose, of those chimp ears, of that high pitched girly “grandma” voice. But i didn’t care. The way you ate the popcorn off my hands made me forget everything. When you slipped a few kissed before sucking the popcorn away mesmerized me. I remember the way you pulled me towards the couples’ seat inside that cinema. The way you whispered and moaned into my ear hypnotized me. I was in a daze, and I couldn’t control myself. I kissed your lips, cheeks, neck, hands, chest. I wanted to leave my mark everywhere around you. I let my hands explore your body, reaching where no guy has ever been before. Yes, all that in the movie theater.
How can I forget the first time I gave you a blowjob, in the bathroom stalls? We had a thing for public places. I remember the looks you gave me, you looked ecstatic. You knew I was very good at it, you loved it. I remember how that failed when that old man stormed in, casually asking his grandson if he wants to take a piss. I do not know how we held our laughter.
How about that time we were almost caught by the janitor. We dressed each other silently and plotted our escapade. We got away with it, but that’s when things started to go downhill. You became quieter and colder.
Oh, and when you stood me up… That day was awful. Listening to “Sober” by P!ink while walking around DT all alone, realizing how nothing’s in place. I broke down in the middle of the street. I found my salvation once again to be in religion. I went to a church and prayed, prayed for everything I could think of. I remember getting a message from you saying you overslept and how you wanted to make it up for me the next day. Little did you know I had put up a fight with my parents to come, little did you know how many excuses I had to make up. I started to thing of all the negative things about you. The way you kill me when you made me jealous and insecure. The way we did what you wanted. Always.
Things eventually came to an end.
Yes, it was my fault, I admit it.
Yes, it hit me hard, I won’t lie.
All those failed attempts somehow managed to give me hope.
And now, after a couple of drunken nights, here I am, chatting with a guy that happened to be your best friend and I start to realize that after two months I’m starting to finally move on.
You’re not fucking worth it.
You’re not worth me hearing those remarks about how hot other guys are.
You’re not worth the irresponsibility and carelessness.
Here’s to getting over you, and all the mess you left behind.