The words echoed in my head for a second, and then I realized she was still standing in front of me waiting for a response.
“Bye Sylvia,” I said curtly.
She leaned in for a kiss, and I obliged. She smiled a little, and I could tell it was her way of saying that she had a good time. I watched her turn and walk down the hall. She is so out of my league.
I am a lucky, lucky guy, that’s for sure.
Let me tell you what little I know about Sylvia; She enjoys good music, specifically at the joint across town from the job she just got off of. She is a Republican, but wasn’t too upset about Barack Obama winning the election. She prefers Sam Adams over any other beer because she’s originally from Boston, and she is just naturally appealed to it’s taste. Though she grew up in New England, she likes the Pittsburgh Steelers (and was wearing a t-shirt saying so). She complimented me on my cologne, even though I knew I wasn’t wearing any.
When I told her I liked her smile, she informed me that they were all natural and that she never had braces. The all natural look worked for her, she didn’t need much makeup to enhance her beauty. She used Pantene, but didn’t have to tell me so. It made her dark hair shine under the dim lighting.
Did I mention she was out of my league?
I bought her a few beers along with my own, and I let the rest of our time together run it’s course.
She got a little tipsy, but she let me know what her intentions were well before she started drinking. So, she stayed at my place for the night. No strings attached, no exchanging of phone numbers. I’m not even sure Sylvia was her real name. Both of our needs were met, and that’s all that was needed.
But, were my needs met?
That stupid question kept repeating in my mind, and it put me in a really dull mood. What the hell do I mean ‘were they met’?! Of course they were! I mean, if they weren’t, I could’ve just asked her to stay longer. She would’ve agreed to that, no doubt.
She was a great girl, very friendly and someone that I could imagine staring at for hours and not getting bored. She seemed really sophisticated and intelligent, someone that I could have real conversations with about any topic I could come up with. Not to mention she was stacked with a great rack and a**, and a tight stomach to boot. She was so amazing, I couldn’t even believe she was alone at that dump bar.
She obviously exceeded my low standards. It can’t be her that makes me feel weird. It has to be something with me.
Oh well, no use arguing with myself about my satisfaction, or lack there of. It is nine on a Saturday morning, and I could be out. A shower would be nice, but I really don’t feel like it right now. I’m too sleepy, too lazy, too upset. What could I really go for at the moment?
That was easy.
Coffee, here I come.
- Title: What Am I Missing Here?
- Artist: Feminist Toad
Ryan gets laid, but doesn't feel good like he normally does afterwards.
Shallow; maybe. But it gets better.
He is trying to figure out what he's missing, what isn't clicking.
He has some idea of what he wants, but he doesn't get the whole picture just yet.
Kinda short, but I have no idea if I should continue with it.
Continue of no?
Any advice would be greatly appreciated as well!
- Date: 01/29/2009
- Tags: missing here