My friends knew why I liked him.  My taste in guys is so specific that whenever my friends find me hanging out with a guy who’s waaaay taller than me, chocolate, built and polished, they won’t bother to ask, “Who’s that guy and do y ‘all have something going on?” because they’d know that the guy is definitely not in the friend zone( 95% of the time, it’s accurate). An ex once told me that if he wanted to test my faithfulness, he would find  a tall, dark, built and refined guy then send him my way.

This specific guy, just had an accurate amount of all these qualities plus an British accent.

I know you are reading this because you asked why I have never written anything about you and I know that you asked me for a link to this blog hoping to find a piece about yourself here . It’s true, I have very many stories to tell about you but some things are best felt than expressed, every moment was weirdly magical (and undefined). This is a story about the last time we saw each other, when we were not sure about saying goodbye or if  we’d always meet. If we will forget about each other as months go by because of distance and end up being each other’s memories or if this is the beginning of a story. We are still not sure about it.

I will call you… Baldwin (why? check the dictionary lol).

There was too much heat but we ignored it, we were used to it, living in these arid areas throughout campus life. We hate brightly lit rooms (and white light) so the lights stayed off. We quietly ate chicken with fries, faking the excitement of going out to party one last time. Both of us knew that we did not want to go out. I just wanted to stay in this quiet room with him. We finally agreed to stay indoors, we only went out to buy enough cigarettes, cedars and junk food for the night then came back to the hotel room. We talked for hours before felling asleep. He held me tight all night like a teddy bear, I could not move.

I was woken up at 5 a.m by crackling of a burning cigarette and a loud sigh. It was too cold and the cedar had now become warm and disgusting. We lay there watching morning work out shows, talking about poor production. Ordinary people would say that we had nothing “constructive” to do, and by constructive, they’d mean sex. However, intelligent people think otherwise. There is more to sex than what many people are proud of.  So we sat there, talking and all this time I was thinking, “Am I ever going to see you again? are you going to forget about me?” We were in this situationship for three years but for the past few months, the connection had become real.

The  situationship started in a bar, two drunk people trying to speak sense  in a noisy club. So if The God of Humor decides to pull a fast one on us and we find ourselves posing for a wedding photo , just know that we did not meet in church like everyone else. We met at a bar and our union is the product of a situationship.

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