Listen, because when I tell you this I really want it to sink in. She was fun.
We didn’t have to go anywhere, I didn’t need to say anything, and she could just take any situation and make something out of it. Hey, that little talent of hers really came in handy in my hot, dirty, cramped duplex. I mean this place is a dump. The A/C barely works, the terrazzo floors permanently stained brown. You can stretch your arms out in the bathroom and touch the walls on either side.
It takes a lot of woman to deal with that kind of shit.
I guess I should define what I mean by Fun. See I have all these things that I go through in my mind that tells me what I need to do to be a fun guy, to make her like what I am, and guess what? She wasn’t looking for me to entertain her; just me being with her was enough. That’s why she was so fun. She could make me feel at ease with myself, but when she was here I could never see that.
I always thought I had to be this guy, when like the fucking moron that I am, was never there for her in the moment to be that guy for her.
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Septumblr people, follow this new tumblr, http://sincesheleft.tumblr.com okay?
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Here’s another one
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