Harmless post indeed!

Drew showed up last night, the pungent scent of beer smoky around him. It was obvious that he had come over to inquire the necessity of my personals ad. Doing my best to remain serious, I inquired the necessity of a visit to inquire so. He did not take this joke lightly. Which was unfortunate because it was the type he would toss at me from time to time. His humor was dry and very biting. At times it took a day or two to fully recover from the sting.

He slumped over on my couch, spouting off Vonnegut quotes that resonated but I did not remember in full where they had come from or what could possibly mean in this context. He might as well have been singing beer garden songs; everything was so horribly lost in translation. I was unsure if this was going to mean his intention to come clean about his feelings for me, and in such case, I became a bit excited, even despite my distaste for the present circumstances.

I sat down on the couch next to him, paying attention to his facial expressions as he continued to speak. He was rambling on about how women he dated often ended up in jail, incredulously stating the fact that I was one of the smart ones, that he didn’t want me to end up in jail either—but why did I want to make bad decisions with a stranger when there was a perfectly good friend around who would always be game and never tame? “Never tame,” he said again, leering.

I grimaced at the word friend and its reverberations in my head. Friend. To anyone genuinely interested in someone else, that was the lethal injection. I felt slapped. I said the word again, aloud, querying this time. “Friend?”

He began to rub my knee, his fingers worming their way up my inner thigh. He inched up slowly and got real close, his lager-ridden breath fogging up my already warm cheeks since the final glass of wine in the bottle I had finished only minutes before his arrival. His lips were heading toward mine and I leaned my head back in hopes of escape, just to find the palm of his hand open, fingers outstretched, seizing my hair. He pulled me closer, dampened my lips with a hint of a kiss. He let go of me and stood up.

Stumbling to the kitchen, he opened a bottle of vodka I had chilling in the freezer. Grasping onto the counter, he leaned his head back and took a swig. Inhaling with gusto the moment afterword, he spoke softly and slowly.

“You wanna fuck, little girl?”

I picked up my book, stood up and walked quickly to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. I spoke through the wood. “You can sleep on the couch.”

Some people just don’t understand intimacy.


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