Cuffing Season?

Looking back at my last few posts, I guess I’m overdue for a progress report. I’m still talking to Michael, and after some very intense conversations, I feel like we’re in a better place. I feel like he’s understanding my insecurities in general and I’m understanding his. He has since unhidden his friends list, which helped. It wasn’t so much that I had this burning need to see who he’s friends with. I just really have a hard time with secretive people, and me wanting him to unblock his friends list was more a matter of principle. If he was really serious about wanting a future with me he’d unblock it, and he did {I didn’t put it quite that way. I’m NOT one for ultimatums}.

We still talk every day and he’s talking about coming to visit again in the next month or so. I’d say things are going better. I think we both have emotional baggage we’re dealing with. When we first started talking, he said he was suspicious of my motives because he couldn’t figure out why a woman as attractive as me {his words} would be interested in him. We’re working through some things and I’m hopeful.

With that said, I’m suddenly finding myself getting attention from every direction and it’s so foreign to me. I’ve never been the girl with the guys chasing her, but now I’m hearing about this guy or that guy who’s interested in me. Huh. As far as I can tell, I’m still the same person. I don’t know what’s changed that’s got guys noticing me.

First, there’s Joe, who I had kind of a FWB relationship for a while. He’s probably the best cuddler I’ve ever known. He’s about 6’5 and his hands are as big as my feet {which are not little or dainty}. Joe makes me feel small and safe in his arms. Romantically there wasn’t much there, though. We fooled around a few times, but sexually I wasn’t really into him. For one thing, he referred to his package as his “li’l wee-wee” several times. I finally told him to stop it. I told him that’s not sexy. He’s not small {more like average} but I don’t know any woman who would be turned on by a guy calling his dick a wee-wee. Anyway, I haven’t seen Joe in maybe a year or so, but lately he keeps poking me on Facebook and texting me from time to time. Maybe he’s lonely, I don’t know.

Then there’s Finch, who messages me every other week or so, saying he dropped the ball and hopes I’m single soon {I had told him I’m talking to someone} so he can have another chance. I suppose I might be flattered if I didn’t know that he messages me after each failed attempt at a relationship with someone else. I see him posting on Facebook regularly, looking for women and referring to himself as a handsome chocolate teddy bear, just in time for winter cuddling. I don’t know if he thinks I don’t see those posts or what. I told him I can’t offer him anything more than friendship but he still persists.

Next there’s Freddy, who I talked to for a while and had a couple of meh dates with. He also knows I’ve been talking to someone but messages me every few weeks, I guess to remind me that he’s still there. There was no chemistry at all when we went out, and he had a weird habit of staring at my elbow while he was talking to me. At least, I think that’s what he was looking at.

Another one is Calvin, whom I met a year ago at my friend Keisha’s house on Thanksgiving. He’s a friend of her uncle’s who happened to be there. They were all playing Pokeno, which I had never played, so he was coaching me. Nothing at all happened with him, other than playing cards and laughing a lot, right along with everyone else. Well yesterday, when I was at her house on Thanksgiving, Keisha’s uncle told me Calvin was down in Louisiana with a bad attitude. I asked why, and he said, “Because he knows you’re here and he’s not.” I was really surprised. A whole year had passed since I had seen Calvin, and like I said, our interaction was nowhere near romantic in nature. But Keisha’s uncle said Calvin sure remembered me, and was not happy that he wasn’t able to make it home {he’s a truck driver}.

And finally, there’s Nate. If anyone is a temptation, it’s him. We became friends on Facebook within the last couple of months or so. He’s seriously good looking and we’ve had a few good chat conversations online {some flirtatious, some not}. He lives much closer than Michael does and told me he’s recently single and would love to meet me. Of course, REBOUND was the first word that popped into my mind when he said that, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a tiny bit interested in meeting him face to face. I was good and told him I’m talking to someone, but damn. He definitely caught my attention. That’s all I have to say about that one {for now, anyway}.

I suppose this all might come off sounding conceited or vain. But on the contrary, I don’t get it. I’m actually perplexed by it. I’m not overly flirtatious. I don’t wear clothes that show all my business. I don’t hop in the sack with every guy who smiles at me. I’m friendly…I pay attention when people speak to me…I’m generally kindhearted and I love to laugh. Maybe it’s just that Christmas is coming and people get sentimental when they don’t have a special someone. Maybe they’re just looking for someone to fool around with. Who knows? But I’m definitely not used to the attention, and I’m humbled by it for sure.

On this day after Thanksgiving, I’m grateful that I’m in a place emotionally and mentally where I can be selective about who I spend time with. I’m ok with spending an evening on my own and don’t feel the need to constantly find some random guy to validate me or to stroke my ego {or to stroke my…*ahem* never mind}. I’m grateful to have a good head on my shoulders and friends I can count on. The past few years have been quite a ride, but I see myself evolving, and I gotta say, I kinda like who I’m becoming.

Chocolat

Until my divorce, I had never dated black men before. Not because of any personal preference etc, but simply because none had ever asked me out. The first guy I was with when I found myself newly single was black. I think it’s safe to say 99% of the guys I’ve been out with in the past three years have been black. My friends have teased me, saying, “Once you go black, you never go back.”

They may be right.

I wouldn’t say I’d never consider dating a white guy again. I’ve been out with maybe a handful in the past few years. And if I really clicked with a guy who happened to be white, or Hispanic, or Asian, or any other non-black race, I’d certainly give him a chance. But that has yet to happen. I just find myself way more attracted to black men for a few reasons.

For one thing, they seem way more confident in their masculinity. Actually, they seem way more confident, period. When I’m at the store, or the club, or walking down the street, it’s the black men who will give me an appreciative glance as I pass by. It’s the black men who will actually ask for my number. It’s the black men who have no fear of rejection. They have no problem expressing their interest, regardless of whether I might be interested in them. I’ve been with white guys who were pretty submissive, expecting me to take the lead or make all the decisions. I’ve known plenty of white guys who told me that they once had such a crush on me. Huh? If you were interested, why the hell didn’t you speak up? I like the man to be the man. Not act like a control freak or order me around, but to take the lead.

Another thing that really appeals to me about black men is that the ones I’ve met prefer women with some curves. I grew up in white suburbia, where it was the petite, thin girls who got the guys’ attention. I’ve always been on the thick side, and I was never the girl guys chased after. I’ve been told more than once that if I’d grown up in certain other areas, I would have had guys beating down my door. But I never truly felt sexy, desirable, or totally ok the way I was, until I started dating black men. When I was married, sex was ALWAYS with the lights off. I never felt comfortable getting dressed or undressed in front of my ex-husband. But the black men I’ve been with have loved seeing me nude. Pretty much insisted on it. I never feel self-conscious or embarrassed of my chubby legs or my big behind. Rather, I feel appreciated, attractive, and beautiful in the presence of black men. Part of the reason black men are sexy is because they know exactly how to make a woman feel sexy. They see what they want and they go after it, almost in a predatory way.

My ex-husband stuck strictly to missionary with very little variety. If anything, I was very occasionally on top {meaning *maybe* once a year}, and he refused to do doggie. Like, ever. Our sex routine was just that… routine. I could set my watch to it. Few minutes of this, few minutes of that, then once he thought I was turned on enough, he’d climb on and hump away, without regard to whether I was enjoying it or not. Very rarely, I came during sex with him. But mostly, I’d wait til he went into the bathroom to clean up after he came, then I’d finish myself off. This was my sex life for YEARS. Ugh. His usual move to let me know he was in the mood was to snuggle up close and tell me I smelled good, then maybe grope me and whisper, “Am I being bad?” That ain’t sexy. AT ALL. Occasionally I would suggest different positions, and IF he actually tried it, he kept saying, “Does that feel good? Is this what you wanted?” I didn’t want to discuss it, I just wanted to frigging DO it!!

I can’t imagine any of the black men I’ve been with fumbling their way through sex that way. If we were in missionary position and they wanted me doggie style, they pretty much positioned me that way, or made it pretty clear that’s what they wanted. There was no bashful teenage-like asking what feels good or whether he can have sex with me. They just went for it. And with a few exceptions, it has been SO much better than any sex while I was married. Once, when we were still together, I told my ex-husband he had no idea if I was getting anything out of sex or not. His response? “I’m a guy, I don’t know these things.” Really? I’m pretty easy to read when it comes to sex. If I’m moving around, moaning, begging for more, digging my nails into your back, grabbing your ass to pull you closer, I’m into it. If I’m lying there, practically motionless, I’m not. Capiche?

This is somewhat secondary to the other reasons why I prefer black men, but I also like the contrast of dark skin against mine. There’s something so sexy about it. I love their thicker lips and the smoothness of their skin. I think that if I had ever dated a black guy before I met my ex-husband, I probably wouldn’t have dated him, let alone married him. Don’t get me wrong… I don’t regret marrying him. We did have some good times and because of him, I have a beautiful daughter. But he wasn’t the right guy for me. I’m only sorry it took me so damn long to figure out what it was I really wanted.

The One Who Raised the Bar

When I first started going to BBW parties, I didn’t really know what to expect. I admit, I was a bit jaded after years of a very unromantic marriage, and I really didn’t have high expectations of meeting someone special. It was mostly an opportunity for me to get back into the social scene and figure out all over again how to date.

At the very first party I went to, one of my friends told me about a guy she knew whom she thought I would like. She said he was a big guy {former minor league football player} and that he was a gentle giant. Toward the end of the party, I noticed a guy fitting that description who came in and started dancing. I was pretty sure it must be him, but I couldn’t find my friend to ask her.

As things were winding down, people were leaving, and the lights were turned back up, I was talking to my friends when this guy came walking over. He said hi to the ones he knew and gave my friend a hug. She turned and introduced me to Ben. He looked down, smiled, and shook my hand, then it was almost as if I had said, “HEY!” He had started to look away but quickly looked back down at me {he was easily a foot taller than me} like he was really seeing me for the first time. Then he started turning on the charm. He was talking and flirting and kept asking for my number. I didn’t know what to do, and certainly wasn’t used to any guy coming on to me like that, so I finally said, “Give me your number and I’ll call you.” He didn’t believe that I would, but eventually gave me his number.

The next afternoon, I called him. When he answered, I said, “Hi, do you know who this is?” At the party, my friend had teased him about being terrible with names and said he probably wouldn’t remember mine. But he immediately guessed who I was, name and all {score one point for the gentle giant}. We talked for a while, and he asked if I wanted to meet for dinner later that week. I accepted.

We pulled in at the same time, and he immediately came over to my side of the car before I was even all the way out. He had this big smile and gave me a big hug and kiss. I loved being wrapped in those arms. We walked together to the restaurant, which he said he had worked at years before. A few people there remembered him, and he introduced me to all of them {score another point}. During dinner, he held my hands across the table and gazed at me like a big lovestruck kid. He said that when he had met me, he took a double take because he had been mesmerized by my eyes. At one point, he said he wanted to show me where the restroom was in case I needed to go while we were there. I followed him over there and as soon as we got around the corner, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. He said he just wanted an excuse to kiss me, not to show me where the restroom was {points scored all over the place}.

After dinner, he tucked my arm in his as we walked back to the car. He held me and kissed me, and I was loving every minute of it. He called and texted every day, and we made plans to meet again. After talking for a week or two, I went over to his apartment one afternoon. We were on his bed kissing, touching, fooling around, and it was so nice. At one point, I looked at him and said, “You’re gonna make me fall for you.” He kissed me and said, “Go ahead and fall, I’ll catch you.” Hook, line, sinker. He had me.

As we were fooling around that day, he wanted me to go down on him. I didn’t know him well, but I knew him well enough to assume I wasn’t the first girl to be in his apartment. I also assumed I wouldn’t be the first girl in his bed to blow him. Something had to set me apart. So I ignored his request. We kept fooling around, and he ended up going down on me. My ex-husband had never been very good at oral sex. He only did it occasionally, and I was never really comfortable having his face downtown anyway. One time, when he halfheartedly did, I asked if he even enjoyed doing it. He said he only did it because he thought I wanted him to. So I told him not to worry about it anymore. I think both of us were relieved. But when Ben touched me with his tongue… I discovered for the first time what all the fuss was about. He had me digging my heels into the mattress, gasping, moaning… He was amazing.

The next time I went to his apartment, all bets were off. Naked, kissing, touching, making love…it was so good. We went on dates, and every time, he was holding my hands across the table, being a perfect gentleman. It was as if I had conjured him out of a dream. THIS was what dating was supposed to be like! He was courting me, wooing me, and winning me with every kiss, every gesture, every moment that we were together. He came to a bar he had no interest in, just because he knew I’d be there. He went out of his way to be wonderful, paying for me on our dates and being so sweet and attentive.

I should have known this was too good to be true.

One afternoon, we were at his apartment in bed. I was contentedly lying there, with my head on his chest, when he dropped a bombshell on me. Oh, by the way, he had sort of a girlfriend who used to live here but was now living in Canada for work. They talked on the phone a few times a week, said the “L” word, and what he was really looking for was someone who was not only okay with him having someone else, but who would ideally have her own guy on the side so he wouldn’t feel bad about it. I slowly pulled back from him and felt myself inwardly withdrawing, like a turtle into a shell. He saw my reaction and tried to be sweet but I didn’t even know what to say. He had been acting like I was his girlfriend, but here he was telling me all he wanted from me was some no-strings-attached fun??

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Couldn’t have said it better myself.

We continued talking, and after several days, we were back to going on dates and fooling around. Despite what he had said, he was acting so romantic, so caring… like a boyfriend, not a friend with benefits. I stupidly let my guard down, thinking maybe he cared about me more than he was willing to admit. But one evening, we were at his apartment, sitting on the porch and having a glass of wine, when the same discussion came up again. He said he hadn’t misled me, that he had made it clear what he was looking for. I said I didn’t like knowing I was nothing but a convenience to him. He tried to say that wasn’t the case but what else would you call it? He asked if I wanted a relationship. I said I didn’t know what it was that I wanted. I was getting more angry and feeling more and more foolish. I asked what he would have said if I’d said yes when he asked me about wanting a relationship. He said, “I would have said I’m not ready.” I looked at him angrily and said, “You’re damn right you’re not ready.” I took the last sip of my wine and said, “We’re done here.” I calmly {but purposefully} walked back inside and put my glass in the sink, intending to walk out of his apartment and out of his life. He tried to stop me, looking like he really didn’t like being the bad guy, but I left anyway. He told me to call him when I got home. I never did.

He texted me a few days later and I ignored him. I did my best to put him out of my mind, but too many things about him were exactly what I was looking for in a guy. I couldn’t forget him.

A few months went by, and I was out at a club one night with my friends, when who should walk by but Ben. I had sworn I’d never hook up with him again, but seeing him after all that time, all the memories came rushing back. We started talking, and I was trying so hard to just act like we were friends, nothing more. But then he asked me to dance. We had gone to this same club together before, and he had never really been into PDA. But this time, he got me on the dancefloor and couldn’t stop kissing me. He kept telling me how much he had missed me.

Needless to say, all of my bravado went right out the window and I ended up in his bed that night. It was better than it had ever been. The sex was incredible. He kept telling me how beautiful I was, how much he had missed me. The next morning, he had to drive his cousin somewhere very early, and he told me to stay there and he’d be right back. Before he left, he leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. I was lost all over again.

The second honeymoon didn’t last long before we were right back to square one. I distanced myself without much fanfare this time, and even though I would occasionally hear from him, we didn’t see each other again…until several months later when he invited me to his cousin’s wedding. I was surprised and flattered and accepted the invitation. We had a good time until I noticed that he couldn’t keep his eyes off one of the bridesmaids. Every time she went by, his eyes went too. I finally saw him for what he was — a dog in his late 40s, still chasing tails. I knew I was done.

Ain't nuttin but a hound dawg

Ain’t nuttin but a hound dawg

For the longest time, I couldn’t put him out of my mind. I was mad at myself for giving any thought to a guy who clearly thought of me as nothing but an option. I couldn’t figure out why I was still thinking about him, but it suddenly dawned on me. He set the bar for how Mr. Right should be. Ben may have turned out to be nothing but a dog, but he was also so many things that I’m looking for in a man: attentive, romantic, sweet, great lover, funny, sexy as hell…

I’ve had plenty of dates, and while I’m not super picky, I do have certain standards that I’m pretty set on. Yeah, I’ve gone out with some guys who weren’t exactly what I was looking for. I’ve tried to be less demanding and not automatically rule out a particular guy just because of one thing or another. But the fact is that my marriage was 17 years of me constantly lowering my expectations. I’m not looking for the perfect guy, just the one who’s perfect for me. I have to be true to myself and hold out for what I really want.

Next up: Chocolat

The Boomerang {aka, the one I’m never ever ever getting back together with…like, ever.}

{I must apologize in advance for the length of this one. It’s kind of a complicated story, but one that bears telling.}
I met Todd on a dating site when I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for. He was good looking but struck me as kind of serious. I can be serious, but I’m pretty lighthearted and tend to laugh a lot. We talked for a while on the phone before deciding to meet.

We had arranged to meet for dinner at a restaurant nearby, and when I got there and saw him, I did something completely out of character for me. I walked right up to him and kissed him. He seemed surprised and didn’t immediately kiss me back, making me feel very foolish. He later said it was because he was catching a quick smoke before I got there and had a mouthful of cigarette smoke. At first glance, he reminded me of Carlton, from Fresh Prince of Bel Air…very straight laced and business-like.

We found a table, and I was amazed at how quickly I felt completely comfortable with him. We were sitting sort of facing each other, and my leg was between his. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. I really wanted to kiss him and told him as much, but he was hesitant because he was still married {separated, but still married} and was worried someone he knew could be around.

After we ate, we decided to go for a drive. Near the restaurant we discovered a small park. We pulled in… and proceeded to make out like teenagers. I couldn’t get enough. At one point, he was kind of on top of me in the front seat, then reached down and reclined the seat. I immediately went from semi-upright to being on my back, and it was so sexy. The logical, grown-up part of my brain was worried that a cop would come by and bust us for public indecency or something. We were both dressed, but still. How embarrassing would that be to get arrested or even fined for making out in a car??

How very, very naughty...

How very, very naughty…

He had me so turned on. I was very close to throwing caution to the wind and letting him take me right there in the front seat of his Corolla. He was rock hard and I wanted him so badly. I don’t know what came over me. I was never that girl who got loose on a first date, but it felt so right with him. Finally, we both knew we better be getting home. We got out of the car for a minute and he pressed me against it, kissing me. I was so turned on, I was half out of my head.

After that night, we tried to see each other whenever we could, but with work schedules and family lives, it was tough. We had some great conversations and could laugh together. We met for lunch a few times and often ended up making out in the car. It was never enough. I wanted him.

We both played hooky and met at a hotel room one afternoon. It felt so illicit, so naughty, so perfect. We had both agreed to take our time, but once we were behind closed doors, alone, all bets were off. Our clothes were off in a matter of minutes. We were all over each other, kissing, touching… It felt so good to finally have him, feel him… We had sex a few times that afternoon and dozed in between, exhausted.

Sex with Todd was unbelievably good. He may have looked like Carlton, but he loved like a wild man. I always thought of him as the male version of ‘lady in the streets, freak in the sheets.’

We saw each other for only a few months when he got some bad news…his company was downsizing and his branch was closing. I tried to be supportive but he was extremely stressed about how to pay his bills and trying not to lose his house, not to mention paying for his kids’ tuition. I was a factor that he just couldn’t deal with and he broke things off. It hurt to know he could walk away from me so easily, but I tried not to dwell on it.

A few months later, he got back in touch with me, saying he missed me. We picked up right where we left off, and it was good, but some of that excitement of a new relationship had faded. It also didn’t help that he was still technically married and was back living with his wife, even though he claimed their relationship was very platonic.

I was in the process of trying to sell my house and was under a huge amount of stress. My ex wasn’t helping at all to get the house ready to list {we both still owned it}. So it fell on me to clean, paint, fix and organize everything myself. My relationship with Todd wasn’t exactly a priority, and I think he felt that. We kind of drifted apart, and I didn’t really mind so much this time.

Several months later, I was messing with my Yahoo account when the messenger box popped up. I hadn’t used it in some time, but back when we were together, Todd and I chatted on it regularly. There was his name, with the little dot next to it, indicating that he was online. I thought about it for a while, and decided to send him a quick message. I just said hello and asked how he was, not knowing if he’d even bother to respond.

He did. We caught up a bit, making small talk, and mentioned maybe meeting for lunch sometime. Weeks went by, and I was busy with work and my new place. We were still chatting online a few times a week, but no solid plans had been made. Finally, one Saturday, we agreed to meet downtown for lunch. I deliberated for a long time over what to wear. I didn’t want to look like I had made an effort for him, but at the same time I wanted to look damn good.

I walked in and gave him a hug. I could tell he was a bit apprehensive, but I acted very casual, as if we were just two friends meeting for lunch who hadn’t seen each other in a while. It was nice to see him, but I didn’t have any expectations of anything more.

He texted me later that day and said he’d wanted to kiss me but didn’t know if I wanted him to. I realized at that moment that I did. We met for dinner a few nights later and this time there was a definite vibe in the air. I could see him looking at me with that same old hunger in his eyes. When he walked me to my car, he kissed me, and it all came flooding back. I didn’t want it to end.

He said he and his wife were again separated, he had gotten an apartment, and they were talking lawyers and divorce. I tried not to get my hopes up. We started seeing each other, yet again, and this time something was different. It all felt brand new…familiar, yet new and exciting. We talked about a future together, how he had planned to just remain alone, but now he really wanted a future with me. I could actually see it…bringing him to family events, going on dates, and having a real relationship. At last, we both seemed to be on the same page.

At first, things were fantastic. The sex was better than ever. We were trying new things, and couldn’t get enough of each other…sexually, anyway. It bothered me that we only saw each other every other week or so. There was no real reason for it. I could understand crazy work schedules, or if he had his kids, etc. But when I brought it up, he said that when he got home at the end of the day, he just fell into his routine of fixing his dinner and getting his clothes ironed for the next day, etc. Seeing me just wasn’t really in that routine. It didn’t seem to bother him that he only saw me occasionally, but I wanted and needed more. I needed to feel like a priority, not a convenience.

Another problem was that he was very cagey about what information he would share with me. To this day, I have no idea if his divorce was ever final because he refused to give me a straight answer.

He was also physically attached to his phone. Any little beep and he had to check it, even if it was just a weather update. He couldn’t understand why I thought that was rude. On one occasion, when I fussed about him checking his phone every 10 seconds, he said he might be getting a text from his kids, and said bluntly, “Yes, I have other priorities that are more important than you.” Funny how spoken words can feel like a slap in the face. I pretty much paid my half of the bill and got up and left at that point. He later apologized but it still stung that he said it at all. He made almost an identical comment a few weeks later, and yet for some reason I still didn’t kick him to the curb.

He claimed to love me, saying he honestly couldn’t see himself with anyone but me. He promised to make more of an effort to see me. He promised that once he had more money {he had picked up a side job to supplement his income} he would take me on a real date. Months went by, and nothing changed. I began to feel sad about the fact that I was apparently not worthy of his time or effort. I was also bothered by the fact that he would mostly just text me. We very rarely spoke on the phone, which struck me as odd since he had his own place. When I was married, I resigned myself to accepting scraps of attention from my {now} ex. It made me sad to realize I was back to square one, accepting scraps from Todd.

But I’m a much different woman than I was when I was married. Then, I accepted scraps because I genuinely didn’t think I could do better. Now, I’ve come to the realization that I’d rather be alone than with the wrong person, and I refuse to settle ever again. I refuse to be with someone just for the sake of being with someone. I have to believe I’m worth more than that.

I think, because certain things about our relationship were so good, I was really trying to make it work with him. Granted, any relationship is gonna take work, but in my opinion, it just shouldn’t be that hard. He said and did things a few times that made me wonder if he was trying to get me to break up with him so he wouldn’t have to do the dirty work.

The last month we were technically a couple {and I say ‘couple’ in the loosest sense of the word}, we never spoke on the phone or even saw each other. We’d had a stupid misunderstanding, and instead of trying to patch things up like we usually did, he turned it into a big issue. We texted back and forth for a month, and finally, on Valentine’s Day, of all days, we broke up. He said some intentionally hurtful things, which I know were said because he, himself, was feeling upset and hurt and was trying to hurt me. I just couldn’t get past that. In any relationship I’ve ever been in, I have never resorted to insults or intentionally hurtful words. But Todd had a way of saying just the right thing to work under my skin like a barb. I refused to stoop to his level, no matter how tempting it was.

And so, as much as it hurt to do it, I walked away from Todd for good, with my dignity intact and trying to convince myself that there was someone out there would see me as worthy of their time. Sometimes he crosses my mind, and I can’t help but wonder if he feels stupid for letting me go, for throwing away something that I think could have been amazing. I’ll probably never know.

Next up: Kiss the Girl