I entertained her for a time at the bar. Her laugh like a chocolate fondue in the thick of a heavy December menstration. It was her cackle I craved. I did my voices, told stories, made faces and puns. I spoke of my experience(s (yikes)) with craigslist casual encounters and of my absurdly abundant pubic hair. I did impressions of Al Gore watching a tennis match, Bjork making a drunken 3am phonecall to an ex, and Amy Goodman having an orgasm.
In the end... it is all for naught...
Of course when she left with her fiance man guy I did what I always do.
everytime:
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