One guy from summer school only wanted head. Told me I was pretty but he wasn’t really into me. Had plans to date this other girl. Smaller. Petite. Not me. In that moment, I had to choose between doing it or walking home.
One guy only wanted missionary in the passenger seat of his sports car after we went skinny dipping, the waves crashing in the moonlight. He already had a girlfriend. His skin was soft salt and I was a sucker for blond surfers.
One guy, after driving me to the top of the mountain, the lights of our hometown spread before us, only wanted to fuck in the bed of his truck, no blanket, tequila burning my throat, and I figured why not as the stars bounced overhead.
One guy wanted more from me, crying in the parking lot of the Sack ‘n Save, Whitney Houston singing about loving someone always, and I wanted to love him the way he loved me, but I didn’t. I kissed his tears away and lied.
