I’m pretty damn smart, but you wouldn’t know that. Primarily because you never asked, and secondarily because you hardly let me open my mouth long enough to get a sentence out before trying to shove your tongue in it — or something else. I’m pretty damn smart, and by that I mean I’m smart enough to know not to let a little charm throw me for a loop, and not to get wound up over a “thanks for an awesome night” text, because I’m smart enough to know that you throw those around as carelessly as you throw around the money you gave me to pay for my cab home (so you could go back to sleep instead of drive me there, naturally).
I’m pretty damn smart and by that I mean I had to consciously switch my overactive brain off to let myself fall for you because I’m smart enough to know that love is not quantifiable and the fact that I could not list one impressive fact about you shouldn’t compare to the way you made me smile — like there was nothing more in the world I would have rather been doing than feel your scruff brush against my cheek. I thought I was smart enough to know that that meant something…that a feeling so real could not be evoked by false intentions but only by genuine chemistry.
That’s where I went wrong.
I’m a smart girl who can smell a lie from a mile away, but when I let my heart take over and you looked me in the eye and told me that you looked forward to seeing me all week, the veracity of that truth for me emanated so strongly that it overpowered the noxious bullshit you were spitting through your teeth.
Of course my brain knew that 3:30 AM on a Saturday is not a time set aside for priorities, but my deliberate choice to “let love in” quieted my roaring doubts and I dozed off with my head on your well-rounded shoulder and my fingers running through your thick hair as I let myself enjoy the ephemeral bliss that was sleeping with you. SEE MORE ON PAGE2