it has to be me.

i don't think anyone is capable of this much idiocy as anyone else, certainly not the guy who made the mistake of sitting with me for dinner for four hours and trying (in vain, i tell ya!) to get me to come back to his room with him.

he was by all means, ABSOLUTE PERFECTION!

ABSOLUTE PERFECTION for all the wrong reasons.

i read somewhere once that summer is not summer without flings and such flings in order to be succesful has to be enjoyed by both parties and promptly forgotten.

oh dear god in heave, i wanted to, sooo bad. did i mention he was ABSOLUTE PERFECTION?

the way he looked at me made me want to melt in a puddle of goo, GOO i tell ya, GOO. he had these intense blue eyes and everytime he looked at me i knew exactly what he was thinking: me in bed, naked, in a tangle of sheets and limbs with him.

it's heady you know, being desired, and it's not even the just the sexual connotation of being a sex object it's totally MORE than that. it's the feeling of being wanted, of being desirable, of being pursued. i'm being repetitive, and i'm not making too much sense and i can't seem to capture the right words in my brain and put it into "paper."



he was exotic. i know, i know, i hate that word. exotic. i've been called exotic so many times throughout my life that i've come to absolutely detest the word. but him, even his name is exotic: Marciano. brazilian, but he didn't look brazilian, at least not the typical brazilian i've come to know. he was blond, with the most intense blue eyes EVER. everytime he looked at me, he had that secret smile on his face and i know, i just KNOW that he's imagining wicked things in his mind.

being wicked is hot.

i alternated between being tempted by him to well, not. we talked for four hours last night, we had dinner together, then we went our separate ways only to run into each other again as i was coming back to my room from downstairs checking my email. that was another two hours of conversation right there. he would have been the most perfect fling, we were both staying in the same hotel through the weekend, we're both single, both unattached and both desirious of well, each other.

what's the problem then???

and this my friends is when idiocy enters: i couldn't. i effin couldn't.

why? oh no, not for the most noble of reasons, not because i knew i was going to feel bad about myself the next day . . . not even for that. i couldn't do it because the whole four hours we were talking the only thing that was going through my brain was i would rather be talking to someone else. that i am dying, because i couldn't talk to the one person i wanted to talk to. oh, see??? i AM an idiot.

what have i gone and done? WHAT??? i think i fell. oh shit. shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit. i fell. i wasn't supposed to fall, at least not yet, or at the very least not with the person i fell for.

i mean, WHO DOES THAT?!?

honestly!

i can't do this. i can't fall for someone who's confused, for someone who's still inlove with another girl, and in fact the only thing preventing him for being with her is because he's scared that she may potentially hurt him again. i can't imagine being with someone who only has half a heart, because, i mean, he does. it's only half coz the other half is unsure. i'm a selfish bitch, i want all of it, i want the whole thing. and i don't think i'm ever going to be satisfied with only half, and that will be a bone of contention between us, i don't think i can live my life knowing/thinking/assuming i'm second best or that he settled. and OH HOLY CRAP! why am i even thinking/assuming he feels the same way???

seeeeeee, IDIOT!!!

i should have said YES to Marciano, a resounding YES, a screaming, orgasmic YESSSSSS.

except i didn't coz i'm an IDIOT (as if that needs to be established even more!), coz the whole time Marciano was talking, i was dying to check my email, i was itching to go back to my room and write something down, something funny that would be guaranteed to make him smile or something poignant that would make him think.

well, fuck.

actually, it should be, well i'm fucked.