The man that needs no map. The cartographer, if you will.
I get bored easily and I lose interest if he’s dumb and clingy. Quickest way to destroy any feelings I have for him. Mr. Wanna-be-Boyfriend is an expert at this annoying approach. His days are numbered. All I have to do is figure out how to wash my hands of him without totally devastating him. He refers to me as both Sweet Lips and WOMAN, now. Just fucking lovely.
and so… I made a lunch date with my favorite expert, the man at the top of the list in my little black book. Determined to unload the determined irritant, and in desperate need of a fix of my favorite thing. Correctly Aggressive men. Be a man. Tell me what you want or better yet, take it. Don’t ask me for directions, don’t baby talk, and don’t whimper. Fucks’ sake that drives me fucking nuts.
and NOT in a good way. Though I realized today… I do it.
at least when I’m with him…
and I can’t help it… because when I realized it, I made a conscious effort not to, and I absolutely couldn’t not. He inspires that reaction because he reads my mind. I see him and bite my lip… knowing that what’s walking towards me is better than I will have words to describe it to you with.
Some men bring it…and some OWN it.
This man owns me. I’d have to say I could convince anyone to settle for a good old fashioned make out date if I explained my lunch date in detail. All you need to find is that one man and let’s all pray there’s more than one… the ones that write maps.
I want nothing but that every day for the rest of my life. My thanks to the Cartographer for reminding me it exists and is worth holding out for and also for kissing me stupid and sending me to work with starry eyes and rosy cheeks. He turns my blood into napalm and sends my tip averages through the roof.
Brains and confidence are apparently not optional when it comes to holding my attention. Go figure.