I have an interesting dilemma of sorts. I’m realizing more and more everyday that how I look has NOTHING to do with how I act and speak and just am.
I’m getting this strange feeling that my tall, strikingly chocolate countenance is somehow mismatched with my quirky, awkward, and off the wall personality. It’s almost disconcerting. It’s like, these dudes ESPECIALLY see me, and they get “intimidated” (a story for another day), or that I am possibly the most beautiful thing in the world since Stonehenge.
And that may be true.
I honestly think that I exude something that says look at me, and I’m pretty sure it’s in a not bad way. I refuse to be modest because then I would be lying, and I am no liar. So anyway, here I am exuding this joie de vivre, looking like a scrumptious hersheys, that drips sexy words and turns of phrases.
I might be the type of girl to say, “How are you today. I haven’t seen you in so long. Let’s get together for dinner tomorrow.” And then sexily lean down and rummage ever so sexily in my sex bag and realize that I have no sex pen and sex paper, so you HAVE to write your number on my sex boob.
I could be the girl who sits in the back of the classes with the silky tresses and red dress, and trenchcoat, gracefully gliding through life.
Instead, I choose to have ridiculous conversations that include, but are not limited to: ducks, babies, underwear, masturbation, silk stockings, thrift stores, stairs, swindles, Rick Ross, Chingy for prez, rapist vans, strangers smooches, red Ford Explorer, ivory coast rapper, shoes, and any number of random, but equally delightful topics that render me un-sexy, all while wearing a man shirt, and this might be a teensy bit strange.
I would say that this is the part where I attempt to make one match the other, but that simply will not happen. I like and my contradictionary life WAY too much.