After our romantic getaway
I notice
my bulky boyfriend
stops asking me questions
about myself
like I’m a mystery
he’s lost interest in solving.
His gaze wanders
around the club,
eyes now pausing
on other girls’ butts
that always
look better
than your cursed one.
I need him to notice me.
I take action,
grab his hand
silently lead him out
to where my car sits benignly
in the parking lot.
I climb into my passenger seat
recline it back as far as it will go,
which is not actually all that far.
Suggestively, I invite him in.
He asks if I’m sure
because “things
are about to get real.”
I just want to mess around.
But think of Crystal
hearing I’m a virgin
telling me
the worst thing a girl can be
is a tease.
I nod, ready
for things to get real,
although I’m certain that
I’m not.
But I have his
full focus
more engaged
than ever.
Pupils swollen.
He’s all mine.
My smash and grab
for attention
a success.
Steam drapes draw closed
across all the windows.
He positions his thick torso
over me
I panic
Oh wait
“I have my period,”
whew
I feign deep regret
hope Crystal isn’t right.