It actually turns out to be a pretty satisfying situation. It's not that I don't want to kiss him; just that everything else makes me feel pretty damn good and hecka-hecka happy.

As long as he keeps giving me sideways glances; as long as he takes obvious pleasure in making me laugh; as long as he looks jealous when I walk back inside after talking with another boy; as long as he always wants to share my food; as long as he tells me about things that other people don't hear about; as long as he won't talk to me about Nicole; as long as he acts like we just Gotta see each other soon; as long as he loves me--

I'll always laugh at his cheesy jokes and make them in return; I'll always ask him about his health; I'll always pick him up from wherever the fuck he is to bring him to the party, and I'll always give him a ride home;

as long as he's asking for rides home; as long as we're both secretly always impressed by each other;

I'll always dig his style and his sense of what is kind; I'll always sit nearer to him than to anything else in this world; I'll motivate him to make the best of the talents that he only half-beleives in; for as long as that:

I am his woman.

3:51 a.m. 2004-11-20�