The misadventures of the heart and sometimes, the stomach.

Miss You.

It’s been too long but there you stood in the flesh. For a moment suspended in time – I stood and stared at you from across the street. The way those skinny jeans cling onto your legs, more tightly than a devout Christian to the Lord. The way the cigarette hangs so nonchalantly from your fingertips.

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Why is it that at 26, I am expected to: have dated the same guy for a minimum of two years, preferably someone of the same race and religion, holds down a predictable job with a steady paycheck, drives an imported car (his own)? or even better, expected to have convinced someone to spend the

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 Go on. He coaxed with a voice like warmed honey, hand on the small of my back, nudging me closer and closer to the edge. I asked begged him to please give me some time. It is all going too fast and I really want to do this right. And no, I wasn’t acting coy. We

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