Over a drink her friend asked her, what happened with that guy you really liked, did he ever come back to you?
She lifted her vodka shot and necked it. It felt cold and clean. Oh him. He wants me, he doesn’t want me. You know he likes kissing but he never mentions the word love. I’ve had him in my mouth. Swallowed his milk. He’s gone down on me but we’ve never had intercourse. And I know from his texts he really digs my body. But you know that seesaw ride gets a bit wearisome.
That seesaw ride, wearisome, intimacy, involvement, she listened, she was always there to listen. She never proffered an opinion. Never gave anything away about herself because she had nothing to say about relationships. She liked the solo life. She didn’t mind being a listening post. It was as good as any TV soap opera. Sex and men. She had decently condemned her own appetite to oblivion. Was more than able to accommodate the mundane.