-I'd love to take you camping, and we can zip our sleeping bags together and cuddle all night long, and I can hold you as you drift off to sleep. But I can't sleep because you're the little spoon and my arm's going a little numb, but I'm too afraid to wake you, and my nose itches and there's a pebble or twig or something poking into my hip, so you finally wake up, annoyed, and say we should just separate the sleeping bags, and I mumble some passive-aggressive affirmative, and we unzip. The next morning we decide to just pack up early and head back without even eating breakfast. We don't say much on the ride back. I text you a few days later, but you don't reply.
-Hey! I think you're pretty, we should get a drink sometime:) I'll take you to my favorite bar! I'll pick you up, but there won't be a place to park so we'll have to walk like, three blocks. I'll think about holding your hand on the walk, but decide against it, fumbling over words as I try to make painful small-talk. When we get there, it'll be really crowded and I'll say something innocuous like "it's usually not this busy." I can feel a panic attack swelling, but I'm ok, I just need a drink and I'll be ok. We finally get our drinks and try to find a table, but it's so crowded, I casually suggest we go outside. I pull out a cigarette and you make a face like you just stepped in something. "I'm trying to quit," I mutter. I know on my profile I said I don't smoke, but these things take time. While we're awkwardly standing on the constraining patio, you get a phone call. Oh, it's important? You've gotta go? D'you need a ride? Oh, ok, well, it was nice to meet you. I'll call you. Hope doesn't spring eternal.
-Hey, so from you're profile picture you look really pretty. You're into cats?! What a coincidence, I am too! Do you ever get that feeling that your life is just one in a mass of incomprehensible, inconsequential floating, oozing, yearning, feeling lives? Yeah, me neither. So, come here often?
