Barely 5?1, withe dark hair and even darker eye. She wears glasses when she reads in bed next to you while you sleep off your hang over on Sunday mornings. She laughs when she’s nervous, giggles when she’s horny and listens to salsa music when she’s making love. At 28 she’s spent two years in Bolivia as part of the peace corp and an extra two years there working on a farm. An honest girl who believes there’ a good in everyone, there’s a good in you. On the first date she tells you she doesn’t like sushi, by the end she tries the first piece of her life to impress you. After there’s salsa dancing at Cafe Citron. After that we’re back at her condo in Columbia Heights. She’s on her period so she puts you in her mouth. On the second date at La Tasca she points out her left hand is partially crippled, three of the four fingers are unable to bend straight. She’s damaged and because of it that much more attractive to you.

You, you’re coming out of a dark place. The last two months have been the worse of your life but with the help of your friends and family you survived. And the last girl you liked turned out to be unable to tell the truth when it counted but that to you survived. Now you’re here, with a girl who has beautiful breasts and a partial left hand and both of yours work so you’ll grab on to anything especially anyone willing to hold on to you. So you’ll fuck this girl and her crippled hand to get over the hard times, last girl and move forward or that’s the lie you tell yourself. A month later things have moved faster than expected out of your control as if you had any. You keep time in blood so when she fucks you during her period it’s an anniversary. Now every weekend you’re staying the night at her house. You two are meeting each others friends. When a girl is interested she pays for half. But lately she pays for everything, movies, dinners she gives more of herself than you’re ready for. Now you know it’s serious. She gazes at you when you two are out in public, the look when a girl is satisfied and thinks she’s finally found a nice guy. And now she giving you that look with her blood on you, you kiss her, she tells you to cum and this is the deepness you dream of but haven’t been to.

So you do that thing people do when they want out. You start a fight over something trivial, she’s upset and doesn’t understand why. There’s make up sex and during you start thinking about the next girl. A red haired 24 year old you met the Saturday morning before. You’re thinking about the shape of her ass, the way she smiled, the tightness of her triceps. You’re barely outside of this girl and you’ve already moved on. Transition. Putting on your pants you tell her maybe you two moved too fast in all of this. Maybe there should be sometime apart to think. She’s confused, not sure what’s going on barely whispers ok. You’re two feet outside of her door and you already miss her, keep going. Go home, wash her off you, forget the scent of her hair, block out your favorite memory of trying bloody Marys at The Heights. The lie is that there will always be something missing in every girl you’re with, the truth is that there will always be something missing inside of you. Your appetite for lust is endless and you’ll always hunger for more. Now lie one more time and tell yourself you’ll grow out of it that it’ll be different when you’re older. Now lie yourself asleep. The game has crippled you, it makes expert liars of us all

When you first get into game you convince yourself that all girls are players, we’re all playing the same game, you’ll only hurt the ones that deserve it. You tell yourself if you find a girl like her (again) you’ll change, be different, come out of the cold. A girl who’s good, who picked up the phone every time you call, has never flaked and waits for you on her doorstep after the bars close. This girl is here willing to love you and because of that you don’t want her. Belonging to club that would have you as member. History repeats, another Emily, but there’s no abortion to blame here. A piece of you died on a Saturday and you had no choice about the funeral. You’re not as innocent as you were at 22 but that another story let’s call it the prequel. Did you lead her on? Yes you did. You told her she was beautiful but honestly every girl is and needs to hear it. You texted her you were thinking of her and at that time you were. You told her her body was amazing but the female form is. Consider this an admission of guilt, a confession, for her and the others before her. The word’s of Jesse Lacey will forever hunt you, “I will lie awake, lie for fun and fake the way I hold you let you fall for every empty word I say”