No law less than ourselves owning

A memoir:

Like a fucking kitten, I would dotingly follow you through rows of metal shelving, watching as you “farmed” the media department for various misplaced games, movies, and the likes. I’d get lost in whatever we were talking about, and I’d listen to your cynical ramblings about “the plague of consumerism,” whilst subconsciously pawing at you for attention. I should have been off somewhere, ejaculating sales mantra at some wide-eyed electronics gawker whose shallow pockets I could easily manipulate, but when you were working that day, I’d give reason to conveniently stumble into your department. I don’t know why I did this. I’d get excited when I’d see your brown head bobbing over the rows of DVDs, and strike up conversation trying not to seem overly enthusiastic about the opportunity to waste company time flirting with you. I wanted to be the sexy, quirky character in the films you devoted yourself to. But I was me and I wanted to just go up to you and say, “I really really like talking to you and I wish we would always be working the same shifts. I think you’re cute and interesting and I hope you like me even though I have a boyfriend who is not as interesting as you.” I probably still said all of those things without saying them, and you were probably turned off at how innocent I looked. I hope you know that it really sucked when you quit. But I’ll never forget the reckless thrill of sitting next to you in an old ass truck, your enthusiastic banter of Coachella experiences I missed filling up the small compartment before you popped in a CocoRosie CD and I listened with thoughts of rebellion and excited vigor picturing my controlling boyfriend’s livid rage at the thought of me sharing a truck compartment with a bearded boy with gauged ears and a good taste for flicks and tunes.

It behooves me that guys alway complain about being lonely and depressed because they can’t find a meaningful, loving relationship. Yet, these same guys go to bed with girls that aren’t worth their time; and the girls that are worth it, loose interest because these fucktards can’t keep their dicks in their pants long enough to put in the minimum required effort it takes to charm and keep a decent girl. He gives in to easy lays while the girl that would actually rock his world sits quietly by and watches as he wastes his time with ugly ass tramps and she, sadly, realizes you’re not worth her time.

You notice her; you might have even had a crush on her and think she is the prettiest girl you know, and maybe she thinks your freaking talented and sweet and are the cutest boy out of all of your friends, but that saggy ex that’s been passed around the block conveniently warms your bed at night. So, now dream girl wouldn’t touch that with a ten foot pole. You didn’t think she would date you; you’re too fucking dumb to notice all the really kind and considerate things she does for you because she was hoping you would realize that she wants to do nice things for you because she likes you. How can she expect any more from you, though? You are a fucking dumb boy who doesn’t understand that girls want to feel special and noticed. She wants you to make her feel that you would pick her out of a crowded room, and make all the effort in the world to get to know her and have her fall in love with you. In reality, this girl watches as you give into drunk mess night after night, and you never bother to notice dream girl’s face sadden and give up on trying to get your attention. She could have made you happy and complete… if only you would have noticed.