User:SimulacrumCaputosis/That Girl

Uh-oh, A-W-K-W-A-R-D A-L-E-R-T.

That girl. Damn, she's so familiar, but I can't for the life of me remember why. She reminds me of carnations, for some reason. Some strange connection with carnations....and....carnations and whisky? I just can't....Oh,she's looking right at me. She's smiling, and waving! What should I do?! Oookaaay, just smile, wave back, and keep walking. Nope, now she's coming over to me. Why is she smiling like that? Why am I reminded of carnations and whiskey...Why's she hugging me?! Carnations and whiskey...carnations and whiskey...

That Night

That's right, she's the one. She was there at the party. You had some whiskey. She had some whiskey, perhaps you even gave it to her. There was laughing, and you took a flower from a nearby arrangement and gave it to her. Her alcohol-flavored lips returned the gift in an brief kiss. You leaned back into her, and it was suddenly more passionate. And there was more whiskey. The last thing you remember the glass in her hand spilled its icy contents onto yoru sweaty back, just as your hand ran up her tender inner thigh.

That Next Morning

Your head pounds all across. Your stomach churns uncomfortably. You open your eyes, and the room is spinning, but the ceiling fan is spinning even faster. You can't stand—not yet anyway. The covers next to your are pushed aside, for someone had been there. There's a white lacy bra, size B, entangled in your hands. The smell of tobacco is in the air. Just as you are about to congradulate yourself on surviving the night without making any stupid decisions, you realize that you are fully naked. That, and the sheets are sticky. The only consolation is that you will likely never see her again, right? Right?

The Present Situation

There's no point in trying to mask it. The awkwardness permeates through the air. She's nice and all, but for some reason, you can't bear to see those eyes of hers. Just hearing her voice makes you turn red and want to run for cover. She obviously thinks it was meaningful. You can't tell her that you would only hook up with her drunk, however true it might be. Still, she's trying to talk with you on the sidewalk. Worse yet, it involves last night's feelings. Feelings? You can't even remember where you were, let alone any emotions. There probably weren't any, on to of it. Try telling her that. Her eyes will get big and watery, her eyebrows turn out, her chin tremble....no, you can't let that happen.

WTF Do I Do?!

That Girl: hows does this shawl look? *winks* You: fine. That Girl: Isn't this a simply fabulous day? You: sure. That Girl: You know, what I love most of all in the world? You: ... That Girl: The way you held me and talked to be that night *rubs your arm* You: *runs like all hell*

Answer in short declarative sentences. Yes, I like the flower. or No, I don't like cats. O, yes, don't like anything cute, fury cuddly, young, or brightly coloured. At least, say you don't, even if you really do. Look at the ground. Nice, stolid ground. Unmoving, unfeeling ground. Or the sky. The sky and its promiscous outlook on the cloud population. If at all possible, reduce all replys to a single word. Don't begin a new sentence. Run like hell, and hope you don't see her again. Ever.

Other Directions

• That Guy
• Sex
• Drinking games