Bitch.
You come back into town from New Mexico, pop online, flirt with me, entice me into meeting you at the bar. Come on, Christine! Short, Hispanic, Long curly hair, Curvacious... I ask if you're meeting anyone else there and you reassure me that you aren't. I don't want you to end up hanging out alone, and there's always the hope that we can continue what we started the last time we were together.
I grudgingly cancelled plans with my best friend for you. I spent 45 minutes on the phone with him until I knew he'd be okay with it since he knows how I feel about you, and he understood that you were only in town for the holidays.
I primp, pamper, I even shave. I packed my precious, limited supply of weed to share with you, should you desire to partake. The last time we were together, you started drawing my name and you didn't have time to finish. You promised someday you would, and I bring that drawing with me, that piece of sentiment that has brought a smile to my face every time I saw it. Off I rush to the bar.
I'm amazed when I walk in and see Kayla there! No sooner than we finished saying our hellos, you ran up to me and pounced on me, ecstatic to see me, seemingly staking your claim on me...even Kayla seemed a bit surprised. I was overjoyed at seeing your smile again, feeling your touch, smelling your hair. You drooled over my new hair length and colour. I felt the warmth.
Alas, that was my last moment of happiness with you that evening. No sooner did we grab a seat than you asked me to bum a cig for you from another girl, and you *know* how I hate cigarettes. It's what you do when you drink now, though, and it should have been obvious from that point that I was just your anchor for the evening, someone to come back to when you needed a bottle holder. I showed you the drawing, and you seemed surprised that I had even kept it. My heart dropped. You dragged me onto the dance floor once or twice, but I wasn't into dancing with you if I didn't have at least 75% of your attention. I didn't want to dance with that taller girl to turn you on. We were *so* not into each other. I came to see YOU.
You weren't the same Daisy that I've had a crush on since 1994. You were now the girl from out-of-town with nothing to lose, no familiar faces, no place in the mangled hierarchy of ex-girlfriends in New York City. Here I was the fool, thinking you really wanted to see me.
Were you even really into that chick you ended up smooching? Or was she just guaranteed to adore you without requiring anything of you? Did you end up fucking her? Did you enjoy not having to deal with the emotions afterwards like you would have had with me? I adore you, I always have. I've cried inside over your relentless teasings. I was the one who chased down the block after you when I saw you at the bar one night after many years of absence. You are all I can talk about at times.
I left after dancing with Kayla a second time because I was feeling good. I didn't want to feel any more jaded. It's bad enough I think my crush is finally fading. I'm *so* glad you didn't have my new phone number, and I'm *so* glad I didn't run into you online the rest of the week that you were around. If I come to New Mexico, I doubt it's going to be for you. I'd rather feel the isolation of the mountains at 8000 feet than sleep beside you.
You still have no idea what you mean to me.