Dear God, Fuck!
The dish ran away with the spoon. The water drowned in the bottle. The tequila, well, it got drunk on her lips.
My mind is swimming with fairy tales and dive bars, I don’t even know what the hell is going on. I really, really don’t want this to end up like one of those mind fuck stories that I have been trying to write. Dear God, (queue the sexy, “you have my attention” look) FUCK! Do you have any idea what that does to me? When he looks at me like that? Holy fucking shit, my entire body gets a little too warm. Why? FUCK! I don’t know. I just don’t know! Perhaps it’s because he looks at me like I have his full attention. Probably it.
Now here goes my brain trying to break it down into some tidbit of psychology. I never have anyone’s fucking attention completely. There is always something else between me and the person on the other side of the conversation. It fucking pisses me off. This though, it does something entirely different. It’s kind of like that first shot of tequila, how it heats all the way down. Delightful.