A man can cut a woman off just like that if he is no longer interested. He won’t respond to her texts and voicemails, or respond weeks later as if the only source of communication is Morse code. And forget about going on dates! If a man just isn’t that into you, he will forget he even committed to taking you out for drinks that Saturday night. As you sit by your window watching cars fly by and waiting for that damn phone to ring, he’s ogling girls at a teta bar, or worse; watching TV with his hands in his pants without a care in the world.
Women, on the other hand, prolong the inevitable. Our emotional and empathetic natures take control and we feel baaaad to end the relationship. Instead of cutting the cord, we listen to them babble for hours. Instead of spending a Saturday night watching JLo on Satuday Night Live, we sit across from them at dinnertime, ogling their ugly moles or big honkers. Next thing you know we have settled. We have a bun in the oven and are strolling hand in hand with a man we grew to love.
I am no different than most women, and found myself continuing the charade with Army Boy after I failed to dodge his kiss. While on our way home, he tried to grab my hand once again but I flinched and stuck my hand in my pocket. He still didn’t get the hint and soon wrapped his arms around my waist. My shoulders tensed and I struggled to find an end to this awkward situation without crushing my poor baby suitor’s heart.
Soon, we were in front of my building. I knew what was coming; the goodnight kiss – with tongue! He pulled me by the loop of my jeans and brought me toward his broad chest. Every fiber of my body screamed, “NOOOOOO!” but my lips remained shut and only parted when his lips met mine. Our tongues met and blended together but my body and heart where somewhere else (with Mr. G, to be exact). I pulled away from him instantly.
“Was something wrong with the kiss?” He asked preoccupied.
“No. I just thought of someone, that’s all,” I repiled while taking a few steps back. He peered into my eyes and cocked his head as if I were a specimen under observation.
“You thought of someone else why you were kissing me? That doesn’t say much about our kiss, does it?” Army Boy retorted bitterly. I looked away, embarrassed and guilt ridden. He crossed his arms in frustration. This was the perfect opportunity for me to be honest with him and cut him off, but instead I stepped toward him and rested my hands on his chest.
“Let’s try again,” I expressed softly. He smiled. Our lips opened again and our tongues participated in a lukewarm tango. The kiss ended quickly and I forced a smile, pretending I was pleased and into him. As much as I wanted to act like a man, what’s between my legs is a pepa™. And that soft pepa™ makes me all mushy inside, sexually and non. So as much as I wanted to break it off, I didn’t. I couldn’t take being the cause of him feeling baaaad. I just hoped I grew some cojones in time, if only to catch the rest of SNL.
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