The Waiter

Imagine pure strength dipped in chocolate. His hands could crush me. And I would let them. His eyes pierced like the sun. I could never look for long. I longed for him to touch me. For his mass to cover me like an eclipse. No escape. I needed no escape. Just complete submission to his reign. In my mind, thick fingers graze my neck, lightly at first before he deepens his push digit by digit. My breath thins and I welcome it.  My body is his to take, gently, roughly, I give it to him. 

Imagine the sweetest song, composed just for you. Its rhythms matching the beat of your heart, its melodies humming the secrets no one knows. But he knows. He knows and he sings you to you, just for you. Others may hear but only you understand and he knows this. A secret between the two of you. He walks towards you and the harmonies grow louder between your thighs.

Imagine the face of an angel and the body of a god. Imagine the deepest, finest, richest mahogany rubbing against your wanting skin. He has no regard for the others in the room. He looks at only me. He leans over me, runs his massive hands through my hair and tugs. I do not flinch. I ask for more. He leans closer, pushes the table in front of me away. Stands over my body completely, his girth magnetic to my core. I do not flinch. I ask for more. He bends now, looks me square in the eyes, grabs my face when I instinctively attempt to look away. 

"Don't," he says. 

He kisses my cheek and I die. His inebriating scent gathers into a cloud that I mount and I float away. My eyes roll to the back of my head and he kisses my neck. My nipples awaken, hungry and jealous. He knows. He focuses on the buttons on my shirt. Undoes the top one slowly then rips the rest away in one aggressive swoop. I do not scream. I ask for more. 

I ask for more. 

"More?" he asks. 

"More," I beg. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, what is it you want more of?"

My eyes roll forward and open. 

"Excuse me?" I ask. 

"I haven't taken your order yet so what do you want more of? Do you need more water?"

"Um, ahem, yes, please, thank you."

He leaves me. He leaves me devastated and thirsty. Water, the last thing on my mind. 

My husband's deep sigh carries across the table but doesn't touch me. I don't let it touch me. 

"Do you think we can come to this restaurant just once without you drooling over the waiter?" he asks. 

"No, my love, probably not."

Just Do It...Maybe.

Love unconditionally.

If you like her, tell her.

If you want to call him, call him.

Tomorrow isn't promised. 

Don't be afraid to express how you feel. 

You never know when they'll be gone.

You never know when you'll be gone.

So just do it.

Seize the day. 

Have no fear. 

Be ruthlessly giving with your heart. 

Unless we're talking about a crush.

A crush that you're not sure likes you.

Or a crush you KNOW doesn't like you.

In that case don't say shit. 

Take that shit to the grave. 

Expressing crush feelings will lead to nothing but guaranteed emotional death. 

But yeah, everyone else? Like your mom.

Go tell your mom you love her and shit because you know, you never know.

Red Hot: An Ode (In Pictures)

Reeeeeedddddddd!

I'd trust you with my taxes...and my vagina. 

Rough me up...red style.

You know those redheaded, bearded hipsters that everyone hates? I want to sit on their faces. 

Michael...my heart is yours.

He could get tough with my mud.

I'd go to his show. 

I'd meet his parents. 

Read me a book, please.

Praise Jesus.

Our Love Child, all grown up... :) Mommy loves you!

Breaking Up With William

“You realize you’re crazy, right?”

“Why am I crazy? Just because I’m fabricating outrageous stories for a chance to connect with the man I’m desperately in love with?”

“Please tell me that’s rhetorical.”

 “The stories aren’t even that outrageous. They’re things that could totally be happening to me.”

“Yeah, but they’re not.”

“But they could.”

“But they’re not.”

“I know they’re not, but…”

“You, an intern, are asking Devin, the Head of the entire Marketing Department, for relationship advice on this ‘whirlwind love affair’ you’re having with all of these ups and downs, twists and turns, where you’re over the moon one day and distraught the next because Devin is the ‘only man you know that can give you the guy’s perspective on exactly what you should do’ except Devin doesn’t know, and will probably never know, that your torrid love affair with ‘William’ doesn’t exactly exist because William himself doesn’t actually exist.  And this all seems like a perfectly logical plan on how to get a guy to notice you?”

“Of course!”

“Are you insane?”

“It’s innovative dating. A girl’s got to have an angle.”

“It’s not innovative. It’s tired and trite. You’re trying to get a guy to like you by making him feel jealous and threatened by what in actuality amounts merely to an imaginary friend. You’re trying to play this ‘angle’ where you treat Devin like he’s nothing more than a gay best friend or a shoulder to cry on, naturally making him fall in love with you and wish with all of his might that you pined away after him like you do with William. Men, women, everyone, they’ve been doing this shit for years but they never stop to think about what happens when the truth comes out and you’re seen as nothing more than a pathetic liar who’s actually not valuable at all because it’s actually YOU that’s delivering those flowers to your desk at work and giving yourself those hickies that you desperately ‘try to hide’ and then not only does he only see you as a friend, or you know, JUST THE INTERN, which was the case all along because your stupid plan was never working, he will NOW see you as a stalkerish, deranged pest that’s so childish and desperate for a date that he couldn’t possibly speak to you ever again…like ever, for the safety of himself and his future family. I mean, how is he supposed to explain the psycho stalker girl from his past to his future wife? Ain't nobody got time for that!”

“Um, harsh!”

“Well, it’s true!”

“Look, listen to me, alright. Just listen. This can work. My plan is solid, completely tight. I’ve been talking to Devin about all of my issues with William for weeks now but this is the next step. It’s the most important step.”

“What is the most important step?”

“Don’t be facetious. I’m being serious.”

“Apologies. The important step.”

“William and I are breaking up this weekend.”

“That’s the step?”

“Yes, the most important step. I’ll come in to work on Monday, run straight into Devin’s office and dive deep into every heartbreaking detail of my break up with William. His face will light up. He’ll think, ‘Here’s my chance. She’s so sad. She’s like a cute little puppy. She’s vulnerable. She’s single!’ and then boom, BOOM! He’ll practically pounce on me right then and there but he won’t; he won’t because he’s a gentleman and respects me. Instead, he’ll be coy. He’ll act as if he’s taking pity on me, really feeling sorry for my sorrows…”

“Oh, there will definitely be sorrow.”

“…and he’ll sigh deeply and pause. In his mind he’ll keep reminding himself not to smile too wide, not to allow his pulsing love to reveal itself on his face. He’ll have so many emotions to control! He’ll be so incredibly nervous because he’s about to do it. He’s finally about to make his move. It will be glorious. He’ll look up at me and say, ‘Ok, look, I’ve been there. It hurts. Breakups are just awful, I mean, the absolute worst.’ He’ll grow in courage and in undesirable urge to touch me. He’ll take my hand and say, ‘Why don’t you let me buy you a drink. You look like you could use a drink. You look like a beautiful girl that was dumped by an absolute jerk and could use a drink.’”

“No.”

“No?”

“Make it so you’re the one that broke up with William. Don’t be too pathetic.”

“You’re right. He’ll take my hand and say, ‘You know what, you were always too good for William. Good for you for finally taking action and dumping that loser. You shouldn’t even be upset by this breakup. You should be celebrating. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to take you out for a drink. That’s right, a celebratory drink because damn it, you deserve it.’ My eyes will light up and I’ll sniffle away my fake tears and give him that smile, you know the one. I’ll say, ‘You know what? You’re right. This was a great idea. Breaking up with William is the smartest thing I’ve done all year and it’s already October! I think I’ll take you up on that offer, Sir. Let’s get a drink.’ And that’s when he’ll smile, you know the one, and he’ll think, ‘Got her,’ without even realizing I, I in fact, I am the one that just got him. It will be glorious!”

“Damn it.”

“What?”

“You just might be right.”

“I mean, duh!”

“It’s still totally pathetic but I can’t help but fully support your crazy. You got this.”

‘I mean, duh!”

        *****

“Well, how did it go? Did he buy it!?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“See, I knew that bitch was crazy.”