Sunday, May 2, 2010
When a girl walks by I never fail to look at her sexy parts and the girl who sits in front never fails to notice me noticing. Whenever I look at a girl I think to myself how does she regard herself when she's naked in front of a man. Is she a bad little girl? Is she a woman who understands what her little woman-curves do? Is she in control, is she excited by the thought of losing control? The girl who sees me thinks what kind of man am I. She thinks how do I regard a girl naked in front of me. I would be lying to myself if I thought she hasn't figured me out better than I know myself. I want to smile at her and make a joke about our little conversations we have without talking but I'm regaled because she knows sometimes I'm a jerk who holds a girl's hands behind her back and sometimes I'm a coward who can't bring himself to dominate a woman. I walk with my confidences and my failures tattooed on my skin. I smile only in the light of woman's forgiveness. See my fragile ego in the sun? The cracks visible only to woman. This trying eggshell alligator. My sweat and effort against my man-blindedness.