A LIttle Advice

Thursday, December 4, 2014

There was this guy sitting near to me, ogling another guy (the barista as a matter of fact) and I could feel the sexual tension between them dancing a ballet in the air. It was so thick you could've sliced it and served it up as the dessert special of the day. 
I quietly watched, patiently waiting for that magic moment when the tension breaks and the two of them would go into the john and play at making love or babies. 
I waited, and waited. For two hours. 

Nothing, except for one vague and failed compliment ("has anyone ever told you that you look like Randy Travis?" followed by the equally inquisitive "Who??"). 

"Just do it," I wanted to scream, "tell him that you want to settle down and live the American dream together or see the world in a flash of glory, or at the very least that you wanna fuck him senseless!". 

The guy left before I could even say one word to him and even before he himself could muster up the courage to show any affections to his object of attraction. 

We both left, speechless.

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