Single File

Let’s start at the beginning. Yes, I’m an inconsistent writer. Get over it.

Last week, I log onto Facebook, and “somehow” landed on homeyloverfriend’s facebook page.  From the barrage of wall post, his removal of his “single” status from his Info column, and the millions of new pictures of him and a sickeningly bubbly young plaything, I guessed that he had a girlfriend.  I’m so quick on the uptake, aren’t I?  Just as I swore that this new addition to his life would solidify his removal from my life, both digital and actual, I receive an instant message from him, wondering how I was doing and if he could remind me of what it was like to have him in me again.

Although I played along in the chat realm, I have no intention of letting him carry on with his sick fantasy of stringing me along on the side while he tells everyone how cute he thinks she is when she sneezes.

Instead, I channeled my energy into more a promising prospect.  One that has lasted for almost a year in fact.  After a petty text message fight, and subsequent weekend apart, I decided that I wanted to make it up to him.  I slipped into a new nighty, and covered it up with a casual weekend dress, found myself in his house, and delighted in his surprised reaction at the sight of my slightly oiled and berry-fragrant body lightly covered in sheer, pink lace.

While I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know where this is going, I do know that I’m going to enjoy the ride while it lasts.  I’ve made too many manifestos, pledging myself to impossible bouts celibacy: Celibacy Blues, Jill Scott.  I finally admitted, that the chastity belt did not fit these hips and to just go with the flow.  Whoever Mr. Right is, will find me–someday.