2001-09-10 || 9:22 a.m.

|| failed operation number one ||

i have been wearing the same pair of pants for three days. i kind of feel like i have come to work in my pajamas but no one has noticed. the seat of these pants used to be tight in a nice pleasing way, but now it is sagging a bit. there is a run of sorts under the back left pocket from sitting on a nail and getting up too quickly (i am with exboy. i have stopped at a cafe to pick up a ticket for a show. it is awkward and i am blushing and i am a magnet. attracted and repulsed at the same time. 1. i want to lay on the most spectacular kiss that will knock the wind out of this boy and send everyone's iced coffees crashing to the floor. 2. i want to run out because i feel there is no air. i can't stand making eye contact with this boy in such a stilted sex-frustrated way. so i get up, after weighing my options, a little too quickly, with quite a jerk, and proceed to get my butt caught on the goddamn chair. i heard ripping. i heard threads snapping. these are those woven-y stay-prest pants, the ones that catch on everything? and instead of going for operation kiss the fucking life outta this boy i am now trying to get a good look at my ass to see if i have ripped the pants, turning around in a very precarious way, in a very um. awkward way. and he says let me see and there we are. in this cafe. i am blushing from my black widowy intentions. i am blushing from the pants. i am blushing because i am bent over slightly and the boy is checking out the seat of my pants to see if there is any damage. oh. my. it's okay, he says, touching the spot slightly. and i am so embarrassed. and i want to go. but what about operation suck face? so i very awkwardly try to hug him while he is in his seated disinterested position, and i manage to squash his head into my boobs (oh dear.) and without thinking i kiss the top of his head and give him a good head scratch, purely out of lapsed habit. and. god. what am i doing? so i smile and begin to walk away and turn and smile and wave in a very distracted way that doesn't quite reach him, but instead hits a blank wall, and walk toward the door now self consciously feeling my butt because there is a tear, i can tell, and oh. why won't he stop looking at me?

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