Write Things Down

American Girls

Wed, 23 May 2012 12:43:41 -0500

I give up on you American girls
With your cars, faster than mine
Your bodies thick in the right places
From fast food and the latest work out craze

American girls you don’t understand
You don’t give me freedom
Your overt sexuality is intriguing
But it’s not to be touched

Not to be touched by me
I’m not an American boy or man
My interest aren’t reality television stardom
The cameras are off

Except for the one you use for sexy pictures
To tease the boys with a taste
Before your flesh is in their jaws
With a spray tan aftertaste

American girls I have loved a few of you
Had everyone of you I’ve lusted after
Well almost everyone
There’s still that one American girl…

Impulse Order

Tue, 22 May 2012 09:04:55 -0500

So I’m starting a new project called Impulse Order. It’s a daily newsletter (starting next week) that shows you one physical and one digital thing you need in your life now. It’ll be a little like my #picks (but with a lot more brevity) you can sign up at http://eepurl.com/lZ_m9 or http://impulseorder.com pass it around and tell your friends.

Thank you for your help and support guys, it means a lot.

Single

Tue, 10 Apr 2012 13:34:59 -0500

She wiped a single tear from her cheek. Just one, like a bead of sweat from her soul. The work was hard, but now it was over. It wasn’t the years that matter, but the hours. She could do calculations; she could give a good estimate of the hours she had worked on the boy, but it was all over now. He was leaving her and not without reason. She was as broken as he was, but she broke off the good pieces of herself and gave them to the boy. She filled the gaps in him and made more gaps in herself. He was an artist, but he was also her work of art. She had to put down her brush now. She had to let him go. He came to her as a boy and was leaving her as a man. She was proud of this and the work she had done. She kissed the man on the forehead and said her goodbyes. There would be more tears later. As for now, it was over. Her job was done and she smiled waving goodbye to her son.

A Complicated Relationship with a Girl Who Likes to be Called a Whore

Thu, 05 Apr 2012 11:08:00 -0500

I pulled your hair
You used it to string me along
There’s no blame
I’m neither upset nor angry
We’re both broken
All I can do is understand
Bite my lip when you call me sir
You’re a virgin waiting for fun
I tempted you the best I could
It was a tease
Needed your attention for my collection

But I’m on your shelf

A Vacation in France

Tue, 03 Apr 2012 10:59:02 -0500

It smelled different than home, and he would not get used to it the few days he was there. He’d only forget about it when she was close. She was the reason he was there. A beautiful French girl, Demet. He would breathe her in and soon she started to smell like home.

The Child in her Mind

Mon, 02 Apr 2012 15:26:54 -0500

There is something
Something about a woman
A woman with a little girl in her head

Someone scared and unsure
Unsure and needs protecting
Protecting from this grown up world

Maybe she needs to color
Color in a book to escape
Escape from everyone, but me

I understand how to play
Play and pretend is all that I do
I do it for the little boy in my mind

A Tiny Drop of Salt Water Over a Thousand Miles Away

Mon, 02 Apr 2012 14:26:04 -0500

You send me pictures of you crying
It doesn’t make me think you’re less beautiful
The soft side of you can break me

There is a distance between me and your tears
A flight, some walking, and maybe a drive
Too far for now

I’m sorry I’m such a child
I won’t apologize for more than that
We both have problems with self hate

So many problems
I hope I’m not one of them
I want there to be a distance between me and your tears

New Bed

Sun, 01 Apr 2012 14:34:46 -0500

I have new furniture
It arrived Thursday
Want to help break it in?

You’ll have to do the work
I’m out of shape and practice

Maybe you’re no better

Honey

Wed, 28 Mar 2012 13:50:07 -0500

I want to wake up and nurse the marks on your body from the night before with soft kisses and medicine. Worshiping you before sending you off for the day with both of us smiling. We’d be happy and anytime the darkness started to cast a shadow in our mind we’d think about the nights of me holding your perfect body down and fucking you hard like the whore you are. There would still be sexy messages during our work day and there would be time for sweet kisses and crying without explanation. Crying the tears we didn’t let go in our past. Feeling safe to let them go with each other. Touching each other with comfort and not questions. Not caring that we’re both broken, but not trying to break or fix or do anything, but care for the other.

Lonely Drop

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 09:25:34 -0600

Her short hair is growing long. It almost touches her shoulders now. I’d pull it, but I don’t want it to grow any longer. It already is though, longer than the first time we kissed. That didn’t grow. Last time I saw her we barely touched. A hug and steadying hand on her back. Maybe the kisses were a mistake. I was so damn eager to live in a universe where I’ve kissed her, that I didn’t think that would be a universe where we stopped kissing as well.

I’m a sad, lonely boy in a universe he created writing with only a drop of inspiration from a girl who is a storm.

Chapter One and Two (Revised) and Bits and Pieces

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 07:47:03 -0600

Please read and give me some kind of feed back.

Thanks, Toffer Surovec

Chapter One

He had information that people needed whether they wanted it or not—life changing information. Because he fully believed a book or a band could change someone’s life. He couldn’t just tell someone about The Long Winters or The Old Man And The Sea. He had to write it down on an index card, hand it to them, and watch them put it in their pocket. It had to go in their pocket, because most likely they were drunk and he was certain that the next day they would wake up to a surprise Christmas of culture in their pocket. Their life would be changed.

David could have had a nice collection of these index cards, but didn’t. He was too practical for sentiment. His girlfriend Nicky had half a dozen in a box, the kind of boxes girls keep in memory of old relationships. Along with the cards were a movie stub, three poems, and not a single picture of them together. They never really were together though, and the last card she kept had David’s name on it.

Lawrence Allen checked himself for index cards and a pen more than he checked himself for his wallet and keys. He would get drunk at parties and hand out the cards to people who didn’t ask for them, but clearly, at least to him, needed them. He had been single for seven months, a personal best that everyone close to him wanted to see end.

David yelled, “L.A.” when L walked through the door and into the party.

L walked his way over to David and kissed Nicky on the cheek, “One day David she’ll be mine. We’ll run away together.” L pushed back her long, simple brown hair, put his hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes, “We’ll run away to any where you want.”

“Even somewhere they would never find your body?”

“You hurt me, you hurt me in my heart space which is really close to my belt.”

David laughed and handed L.A. a beer, “I got someone for you to meet.”

“No, you don’t.”

“She’s nice and just your type. She might even get you to stop kissing me.” said Nicky.

“If she makes me stop kissing you, she isn’t my type, love.” said L.A.

David gave L a glance that told him to stop it, L looked back and they read each other’s minds like good friends always can. L took a long swig of his beer.

Nicky put up with L because he was there before her and because at one time she did love him, but he was also an easy man to hate. In her mind he played with her and then handed her off to David. She loved David. More than she ever loved anyone. It was a slow love though. Not fast, not how she fell for L. Then again you either hated or loved L.A. and either way you let him be because there was no changing him. She excused herself and went to the bathroom.

“When do you want me to meet this girl?” asked L.

“She’s here tonight.”

“Jackass.”

“It wasn’t my idea.”

“You let it happen though. You let your best friend, your hetero-life-mate walk into a trap.”

“Yeah, a trap where you might get laid.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll get fucked.”

“Why are you freaking out?”

“Because I have to play nice now.”

“She’s a photographer.”

“Not another pretty girl who thinks she’s an artist because her parents bought her a DSLR”

“She shoots film.”

“So a plastic hipster with a camera she bought at the mall?”

“All I’m asking is for you to say hi to her.”

“And all I’m saying is that I don’t want to do it.”

“Stop being a child.”

There was a flash and the sound of a shutter. The light stayed in L’s eyes causing spots to appear that moved around her polka doted dress. He knew who she was, the camera gave it away if the short dress and exaggerated smile didn’t. L tried to think of a way to escape this, but only came up with a way to be an asshole to her. So, he went with that plan.

“Hi, I’m…”

“A person that doesn’t know to use a bounce.”

“I lost it you asshole and it’s Kate”

“Hi, Kate I’m…”

“Lawrence.”

L face flexed and forced a smile and there was another flash.

“I was told to calling you that would piss you off.”

She laughed the way only a slightly drunk girl can laugh. That sort of laugh that starts loud then calms down with trying to sound sober. She bit her lip and let a few gusts of giggles out before she composed herself.

“And you thought it’s a good idea to piss me off, why?”

“I was told you’d probably be an asshole to me and to just roll with it.”

“Still, it’s not a good idea to piss someone off when you first meet them”

“Why? I heard that’s your move and it’s just as good as telling someone how to do their job.”

“You’re getting paid to take pictures wrong at a party? What’s your day job love?”

“I’m a professional photographer my art makes money, how’s this novel I hear about going?”

“Play nice, both of you. You haven’t read him and you haven’t seen her work.” Nicky said returning. “Kate this is L.A., he’s a writer and works with David. L.A. this is Kate, she’s a photographer and will be taking pictures at the wedding.”

Everything on L froze except for the arm pouring beer into his throat and the primitive part of his brain. “The wedding” he thought. “The wedding” he thought again and again.

“David?”

“L…”

“Outside.”

David looked back at Nicky while he walked outside, she had an apologetic face and an “oops” smile that disappeared into a smirk when David turned his head back around.

“Wedding?”

“L…”

“Wedding.”

“Calm…”

“Wed-fucking-ing David. A wed-fucking-ing.”

David looked down, his hand on his forehead and took a deep breath, “Yes, L a wed-fucking-ing.”

L leaned against the outside the house and David joined. Both looked forward. There was a silence that L would break before David, but not before he knew David had something to say.

“You’re getting married and you didn’t tell me.”

“It was the next logical step.”

“No, the next action in this project would have been to talk to your best friend about it.”

“We did talk.”

“Months ago.”

“You helped with the ring.”

“Months ago.” L shifted his body and mood, looking at David. “You were supposed to tell me before you popped the questions. How’d you do it?”

“I didn’t.”

“I’m confused.”

“Nicky… Nicky proposed.”

There was a shared snort that turned into shared laughter only silenced by beer bottles.

“She asked you?”

“Yeah, she asked me.”

“Walk me through it.”

“We were laying in bed and she rolled over, and then she just asked me.”

“What did you do?”

“I rolled over opened my nightstand and got the ring out, them we held each other and she cried.”

They both took a long pull of their beers and dropped them on the ground.

David asked, “Inside?”

“Yep.”

“Be my best man?”

“Of course.”

“Be mine?”

“What?”

“That Kate girl is cute, I think I’m going to marry her.”

She was cute, short hair and a short dress. Brown eyes and a single dimple that anchored her crooked smile.

Nicky and Kate were chatting with half empty glasses of whiskey and L thought he might be able to marry her if she could empty half the bottle with him. Which this night, she would do by herself.

“And we’re back.” L announced.

“Have a good talk, are feelings all nice and mended?” Nicky asked.

L rolled his eyes at Nicky and decided to interrogate Kate about cameras.

“So what lens are you going to use for the wedding? There’s a right answer.”

Kate said emphasizing the s, “The right ones.” adding, “Shooting an event with just one lens is like shooting at a dozen people with just one bullet.”

“Right answer, I guess you’re hired.”

“No.” said Nicky, “No.”

“This is a project, I’m a project manager. It’s my call.” said L.

“L.A. It’s my wedding and you will plan no more than a bachelor party and even that, I’m afraid of.”

“Do you even know what your next physical action is?”

Nicky flipped L off, “Is this it?”

“No, it’s to distract me with something shiny so I don’t try to take over this project.”

Nicky motioned towards Kate and L.A. smiled.

Chapter Two

There was the smell of coffee, but sadly not the sounds of coffee.

“There used to be a burr grinder there” L said to Kate who found her way into the kitchen and was leaning against a countertop. She was watching L.A. from behind, she thought secretly. He had a slight v-shaped body with thick blonde hair. He was about two heads taller than her, and she liked that. Kate pulled at the bottom of her dress from the night before and sat down on a stool at the island.

L continued, “Now there is just this coffee maker thing” He shook his head, “It shoots hot water through a little plastic cup and makes something almost coffee-like.”

L handed her a mug of the coffee-inspired drink. She smiled and nodded when he asked, “Half and half?”

She nodded again when he filled her mug enough. L smiled at her softly, but more so smiled at the thought of the past. He looked around the kitchen and how it had changed, since it was his. Since he brought Nicky into his world and let her stay in it. Nothing stays the same. People grow with time and with that time comes change. The only way to hang onto time is with memories and he felt this morning becoming one of them. Like all memories that started with pretty girls this one felt important.

L made him a cup, with much less half and half. He went to the fridge for a bottle of water and to the cabinet for a few aspirin.

“You drank a lot last night, here.” L said handing Kate the water and pills.

“Yes, yes I did. Thank you.” She said lethargically and without thought.

She liked quiet mornings and for a moment it was. L watched her sipping her coffee. She was beautiful with last night’s makeup coming off. It made her eyes look softer, less intense. L studied her, looking for things to remember. Looking for things to keep, for things that could be poured out through a pen onto paper. This girl had a thousand stories on her face and maybe only a hundred on her body. He didn’t know how many where in her mind, but he wanted to find out. She was an interesting character, which meant L wanted to capture her and show her off to the world. She caught him watching her and a slight smile could be seen before it was taken away by a thought and a question.

“Do I look like shit?”

“No.” L said, “Not at all.”

“Whatever, I must look terrible.”

“You don’t, trust me”

For a moment she did trust him. Then he asked, “So how do you know David and Nicky?”

She took a breath that L would learn to associate with trouble, “Do you know Kim?”

“I think I might. I’m not sure.”

“One.” She thought to herself, “The first one” and then said, “The pregnant Kim, she said she knew you.”

“Oh yeah, I know pregnant Kim.”

“We met at the baby shower.”

“Ah.”

There was a squeak that only L heard. It was the fourth step from the top of the stairs. It was Nicky, L knew the sound of her walk. He remembered it from the times she stayed the night, going down the same steps. The step squeaked again, this time under David’s weight and everybody heard it.

David and Nicky entered the kitchen together and Kate almost said good morning, but L stopped her with an exaggerated stare down.

“I’m not that bad.” Nicky said.

No one replied as she went to the coffee machine thing and made her a mug of the stuff with lots of cream, vanilla syrup, and ice. She took a drink.

“Okay, you can all talk now. I’ve had my coffee.”

“Wait there’s coffee in this house?” L asked.

“Don’t be a snob.” David said.

“I’m not being a snob, if it was real coffee she wouldn’t have to fancy it up so much.”

Nicky replied, “I don’t like bitter things.”

“Then drink fucking tea.”

“David calm your friend down it’s too early for this.”

“Isn’t its Kate’s turn to rein him back in yet?” David asked.

Kate just finished her coffee and put down her mug pushing it slightly in L’s direction.

L picked it up, refilled it, and apologized to Nicky. He studied her face for a reaction. He saw old stories and poems. To him, she looked used, even though her night shirt was one of David’s newest. L apologized again, this time softer and from a time further away. Nicky noticed and pulled her old robe closed. L remembered how soft the robe was. He rubbed his fingers together to forget the feel of it. He hated the feel of soft cottony things.

There would have been awkward silence if David understood, or really saw what happened. The only silence was from the girls after David asked, “Does anyone want to go to the diner for breakfast?”

“I do.” L said pouring the rest of his coffee-like drink down the sink.

“I’m not going anywhere looking like this.” said Kate.

“You look beautiful.” said L.

“If we go to a diner dressed like this I’ll look like a stripper that just got off work.”

“Is that why I like that dress so much?”

“I don’t really want to get dressed.” Nicky said, interrupting L’s convincing of Kate.

“David man up and put your foot down. Make her get dressed.” L commanded.

Nicky replied, “David, if you don’t want to wait till our wedding night, you’ll pick your foot up and put my apron on.”

“You better have bacon.” L said, “And the makings of pancakes.”

“We have pancake mix.” Nicky said knowing that wasn’t what L meant.

“Out! Get out of my old kitchen, I’m taking it back.” L said, “How have you been baby? Missed me?” running his fingers over the range.

“We better leave them be, they get into this cooking stuff.” Nicky said to Kate.

“Take the water and the aspirin” L told Kate, who did.

“Already taking care of her?” asked David.

“Just looking after the girl.”

Bits and Pieces

You’re not something I want to conquer, you’re something I want to understand.

That’s your problem, I’m a someone, to understand, not something. I’m a pretty little puzzle to you, and I’m not going to let you try and solve me anymore.

Why can we only pretend to be good people for so long.

Kate opened the door and L knew she wouldn’t be walking out of it—not wearing that. A dress like that wasn’t meant to be seen on for too long. He stepped in and said nothing, she said the same thing as he started to kiss her. She kissed back for a moment, her palms pushing against his chest. She turned, pulling the bow of the dress open and letting it fall. L finally was able to see her tattoo. It was a phrase from her favorite childhood story in a friendly serifed typeface. It read, “Let the wild rumpus start.” and it did.

“They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but no one ever says a thousand words is worth a picture”

“Because a thousand words is worth a world.”

“Oh really now?”

“At least mine are.”

“So what is your book about?”

“A man gets angry at his computer, bangs on the keyboard for an extended amount of time and accidentally types the true name of god. Hilarity ensues.”

Shiver

Tue, 20 Dec 2011 18:27:41 -0600

My cold fingers tried to find warmth on your skin. It caused you to pull away from me. I apologized like I always do. You shook your head no. It was just a reaction I read too much into. I said I was sorry for always being sorry. You smiled out of habit and I knew it was over then. I put no thought into what I said next.

“This is over.”

You were shocked and my fingers were still numb. Your fingers were only slightly warmer than mine, but they stung when you touched my cheek and said you were sorry.

I didn’t see you again until it was warmer and you were showing off parts that used to be mine. You looked different, like a girl I could love. I smiled and caught a glimpse of myself in a dark window. I wasn’t someone you could love. I was still the person you had loved. I hadn’t grown. I let you walk away without getting your attention. A breeze came and I felt numb again.

I lost my soul mate with my lack of ambition. She’s married now with a kid. I can’t...

Sun, 18 Dec 2011 11:48:47 -0600

I lost my soul mate with my lack of ambition. She’s married now with a kid. I can’t break up another marriage.

I can’t feel you thinking about me any more, even though you must.

I still think about you.

Euterpe

Sun, 11 Dec 2011 15:47:23 -0600

She was a girl I kissed one night and she was a girl I wish I could have kissed everyday. She was a cliché, an archetype, she radiated inspiration with no half-life. A muse who gave me a mix tape. I thought about her when I drank, thought about how she didn’t drink. Then I would think about how she gave up sobriety and drank with me. There was magic in that night, I was magic, she was a pixie with the right haircut. Hair that I pulled to make her smile in a way that showed she was of this earth, with earthly desires—a point of attack. I kissed her that night, but didn’t make it to the next day, the next morning, or even midnight. I made a moment though. A moment in her life, something for her to remember and something for her to regret. Her lips didn’t belong to anyone else, but her kisses did. They weren’t for me, but for a guy whose style was more current than classic. A guy who didn’t like questions. He didn’t like questions. All she was, was a question. I didn’t understand the relationship nor did I respect it. I was on a mission to make the universe I was in one in where we had kiss. A universe where I had tried to suffer her emissions without a pen in my hand and enjoy the present instead of trying to turn it into something for people to read—to live art rather than produce it. I couldn’t manage though.

Karen, Jeff, and the Question

Wed, 23 Nov 2011 15:09:00 -0600

The morning started with the night before, which didn’t end in a phone call between them. There wasn’t a fight or even a small disagreement. Those things can be overcame, because with those things are passion. What had happen had no passion. It was a simple question, but not an innocent one.

“When are you two going to get married?” asked a new man, a new friend in her life.

William was his name and his intentions were her. Jeff suspected, but didn’t care. He was comfortable in the relationship and trusted Karen.

Karen eyes were big after the question, not with hope but with fear. She too, was comfortable with the relationship. She was comfortable in her own apartment with time to live her own life. They hadn’t even moved in with each other. Why wasn’t that the question? That question had an answer. They worked on opposite sides of the city and any central location would be far too expensive and far too far from work.

The question lingered and neither answered, William smiled.

Jeff and Karen drove to their separate sides of the city and looked at their phones waiting for the other to call.

Neither did.

So, the morning started with that, the phone call that didn’t happen and when it was over, it was over.

Thank You

Wed, 23 Nov 2011 12:59:54 -0600

You called me a sad, complicated boy with a talent for words and I called you my everything. You weren’t, but you let me believe. You made me happy and you made life simple for someone who always wanted to die. You never called me weak, which made me strong, but not strong enough for the truth of your dishonesty.

I’m sorry you made me strong enough to say goodbye.

Nice Legs

Wed, 23 Nov 2011 12:58:01 -0600

She was a pretty girl who still showed her legs in late November, but covered the rest of her body with a jacket. Her body was slightly thick, but her legs were firm and she was proud of them. Her steps were deliberate and her body was hunched— eyes down catching glances of the cute shoes she would let tip the end of her legs. You could see her pride and you could see what she’d like to change. I wanted to change her. I wanted to kiss her body with passion until it straightened her back and lifted her chin. My hands would glide up her legs, bringing confidence to every part of her body. I would make her realize she was beautiful. I would grab her soft body hard and watch my fingers sink into her flesh. Her perfect legs would tense around my body and become firmer.

She’ll never see me with her eyes on the floor. She’ll never catch my eyes on her body waiting for warmer weather to see her leave the jacket at home. If she did, that would mean someone else had started giving her confidence. She’d belong to someone else.

She’ll never be mine.

I have nothing clever to say or anything to offer. I realize something then, I realize that maybe someone is waiting for me to look away from the pretty girl with nice legs to them. Maybe there is someone waiting to give me the confidence I need. I look around and see no one. I go back to writing in my little red notebook.

A Look at Homophobia and its Roots in Sexism

Mon, 14 Nov 2011 20:19:24 -0600

It occurred to me that a lot of male homophobia probably stems from sexism. Not major sexism. Not men-are-better-than-women sexism, but a more casual, you-throw-like-a-girl sexism. Most boys want to grow up to be men, which they are destined to do and can’t do much about. Growing up as a boy though, you are often compared to a girl when you come up short to what the regional and social expectations of a boy are. This of course is wrong to do, but it happens and probably will happen for a long, long time after my death. Due to poor parenting, poor teaching, and that poor parenting and poor teaching bleeding through from one kid to his peers.

It only takes one bully, or only one like-a-girl comment to make a boy think doing something like a girl must be a bad thing. That one comment will forever set a prejudice in that boys mind.

Doing something like a girl is wrong if you’re a boy and boys are better than girls because doing things like a girl is wrong.

So what does this type of causal sexism have to do with homophobia? Well, it’s impossible to say that male homosexuals are not more feminine than heterosexual males. Not necessarily in a stereotypical, non-butch way, but in a more obvious and by definition, sexual way. Calling a man a cock-sucker is calling him a homosexual and is also degrading a selfless sexual act that women do and is therefore degrading women too.

Being a male homosexual breaks one of the earliest social contract males usually learn: Being a boy is good and being anything else is being a girl. Girls are bad and have cooties. This makes men uncomfortable and being uncomfortable leads to things like homophobia.

Taura

Wed, 02 Nov 2011 14:25:07 -0500

The end to my loneliness is a phone call away
A simple call, an easy one
You would take me back and I’d want you too

This isn’t a time I can take what I want

It wouldn’t be fair to either of us
I want you, I need you today and tomorrow
The next day, is not something I’m sure about

We can’t take this one day at a time anymore

This is bigger than twenty-four hour chunks
I know you’d give me the rest of your life
I want that, but it’s not mine to take

What am I saying?

I don’t really know
We’re both confused
Too confused for a commitment

We can’t rush into forever

Forever, is just a moment
A moment I thought that would be with you
It might still be

I just can’t know that now

I know, you’re days are more over than mine
I’m not asking you to wait
Please live as happy as you can be

If we don’t find our way back to each other I would be surprised

But if we don’t
Know I will always have you like I said in that letter
You will always have me

I am you and you are me, we evened each other out and will never be the same again

Now It's Gone...

Tue, 01 Nov 2011 14:11:38 -0500

“So, it’s over?”

“I think so.”

“But I love…”

“Don’t say it.”

“But it’s true.”

“It will fade.”

“No, it won’t.”

“Yes, it will.”

“You can’t know…”

“Yes, I can”

“How can you?”

“It’s all nature”

“Love isn’t science.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Then how can…”

“Chemicals and memories.”

“What? That’s it?”

“They all fade.”

“I love you.”

“It’ll go away.”

“Like you are.”

“It’s not easy.”

“Doesn’t seem hard.”

“I’ll regret this.”

“Then, please stay.”

“I can’t Jonathan.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Stay, please stay.”

“Jonathan I can’t…”

“April dammit please!”

“I’m not yours.”

“But I’m yours.”

“Not any more.”