Well, I ain’t the fling kind of a girl, but as I headto my Mr-Drop-Dead-Gorgeous stranger I can’t help feeling cheekier – beingsingle is awful.
He’s tall, dark and handsome – just like in thenovels(and movies). I pray to God he ain’t a façade.
I feel like his fingertips gonna electrocute me as hestretches his hand to shake mine when I rudely distract him with a “Long timeno see, Tony. Where the hell have you been?”
I know it’s a dumb line, but when it comes toapologies I scoop the gold.
He too turns out to have lost count of days since helast saw me(liar), but I smile to myself.
When five minutes later we walk into a restaurant to‘catch up’ I know I have made my kill. So, this year I won’t sent flowers tomyself(crazy, right?) and fake the enthusiasm. Nevertheless, I won’t beexpected to boldly declare my feelings through gifts, statement and bouquetslike others(lovers and stalkers) or catwalk in the bedroom in provocative sheernegligee or lingerie.
The week has ended and I can’t help thinking about theday – Tuesday 14th February, 2012. It was fantastic – a candlelitdinner(at a cosy restaurant of my choice), great wine and jokes. I silentlyenjoyed(and giggled) watching him trying hard to fight the lust tug in hisloins that I had mistaken for heartstrings – MR. ROMANTIC won’t be rewarded.After all I had paid.
Maybe this coming weekend… the evil witch is gone,plus I can’t wait to have my joints oiled – after more than a decade.
Copyright ©Elove Poetry, 2012. All rights reserved.
If you have enjoyed this story, perhaps you would liketo read the earlier series.
There are other articles you would love to read… TRUSTME you will.
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