You are the guy that makes me a little nervous. You make me look into my bag of tricks and panic because suddenly it seems full of rubber chickens and I don't know how to act.
You have that "thing". It's sultry and sexy and its hard to tell if you are looking at me smoldering like some long overdue exotic volcano or laughing at me smugly like I was laughed at in school.
Because I was laughed at in school.
And I am that frizzy haired strange and boyish girl again that never gets asked to dance. So I find reasons to hate you. I end the conversation, I pass you later without eye contact. I find reasons- ridiculous reasons - to make it about you: YOU are an asshole, then HE is an asshole if someone speaks of you and there I am spreading poison about you because I was laughed at in school. And I take no chances with men like you now: the smoldering, the steamy, the beautiful. Not you,
I'm just atrophy with nice tits and a pulse.
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