Poetic Compilation

so&so Haiku:
He called me again.
I ignored it, but I don't
think he understands.

bf limerick (lame, i know)
My boyfriend's 2 hours away
His workweek's all work and no play
I'm going to see him
At the start of the weekend
And we'll play all Saturday.

PS. Stop Calling Me

Dear So and So,
Perhaps it's my passive agressive nature, but I thought you'd get it by now. 5 calls. At least, 5 that came from your phone. Then there have been the calls from withheld numbers and numbers I didn't recognize. Thanks to you, I screen all unknown numbers. Since when did obsessive persistence become a virtue? I danced with you for five minutes in a club, and now you think we're bffs. You, in all your sobriety, took advantage of a clearly buzzed female and got her phone number, but by no means does that mean you're automatically in. I imagine that where you live must be extremely deprived of female life, that you must cling to the hopes that I will answer my phone.
Believe me, I felt guilt the next day when you called, and I felt guilt when I ignored your call the first two times. Now, I am pissed off. Obviously, I do not want to talk to you. No, not even for your bribes of free hip-hop dance lessons and whatnot. Not even for 1 million dollars would I endure your bipolar communicative skills. Well... maybe I would, but for 1 million dollars, I would also roll around naked in pig squalor.
I've already deleted pictures of you from my camera, and the only reason I have your number still in my phone is so that I can identify your call and avoid you like Britney Spears actively avoids sanity. I've learned my lesson: no more giving out any contact information, and no more dancing with ugly strangers. No more. No more.

When to say "no"

Last weekend, I had a great time. I saw DJ Kaskade at the Social in downtown Orlando, and even though I cannot remember anything that he played, I remember that I danced to every bit of it, so that must mean I liked it. When I come into the club, that's my persona-- perpetual dancer. Considering I don't go the the gym or participate in outdoor activities, dancing is my own form of exercise and release at the end of the week. When I go downtown, I go there to have fun and dance, and people gravitate towards me.

As happenstance would have it, I brought my camera with me. I was looking admittedly hot that night, and so was my friend, and I went crazy with my 1gb storage space. So there I was, striking poses with everyone around me. I must have taken at least 50 pictures that night. Some of the pictures turned out great, some of them didn't, and more of them revealed to me with its automatic flash what I couldn't see in the darkness of the nightclub.

It's a given that guys will come up to the club and dance with you. It is another given that guys will ask for your or some kind of way to get in touch with you. That's about the time where a fun night could extend to much more, like longterm friendship or a possible relationship. Granted, guys are out for a certain thing too, but I won't get into that. I have a great boyfriend, and I'm not at the club to make new friends. That's about the time where my judgement should have kicked in and said, "HELL NO," but I guess the DJ's music put me in a congenial mood. Damn you, Kaskade.

I woke up the next morning, and I began looking through my phone, and I happened to have received a missed call from the guy, only hours after having given him my digits. He had a sweet voicemail of feigned concern for my safety in getting home, and I had hoped it would end at that. "Had hoped," indicating that I was optimistic at one point, and then reality sunk in.

He called later that afternoon, in the middle of my college football game. Thanks to him, I had to check the final score from online. And, I would have at least hoped that it was a good convo, but it was just him talking, and might I add, abusing the art of anecdotal conversation. He probably talked for an hour, while I talked for maybe 5 minutes. So, while he was chatting away, I went on the computer and downloaded the pictures to my laptop. Oh, the horror as I looked at the 15 or so pictures of me with this guy, pose after pose, and seeing him getting progressively closer and even trying to lean in to kiss me?! Of course, I resisted. I'm not that bad of a girlfriend. But still, I'm not good enough to have just said no, and I was receiving my punishment right then.

Oh, and did I mention that he's fug? Because it wouldn't be some hot adonis that calls me the next day to strike up convo-- it would be the bottom of the barrel hoping that they can sink their teeth in before the decent guys employ the 3-day courtesy waiting time before calling.

For my flirty behavior, I was upset and ashamed. It's sad, because i love dancing with different people, but if that means that I'm enticing guys or making them think I want something more, then maybe I'm better off not dancing with them. I told my bf about it, and even vowed that I wouldn't even dance with a stranger again, let alone give him my . He was very comforting in that he trusts me and knows me well enough that I'm giving myself a beating over the experience. I could tell though that he was relieved when I showed him the picture of that fug guy and maybe wouldn't have acted the same way if the guy was like Jake Gyllenhall or something.