Thursday, June 3, 2010
It’s not easy to write him. He’s not a bad guy but he’s not made of French-fries either. Its not malicious, however, it is all choreographed dancing and lightly dusted icing sugar. Salad days and cum rags. He’s a boyfriend that makes you cringe when he talks too loudly on his mobile phone. He’s a jealous bitch that asks where you’ve been while you’re at the supermarket. He’s a stranger that touches himself on the train while he looks at you from across the carriage. He’s the girl who stays to be hit, drinks too much and ends up crying pathetically all night. He’s not difficult. No Sir. That’s the last thing he would want to be, Sir.