There needs to be a word for that devastating moment when you’re out with your girl maybe it’s Friday night; maybe at a party and a song comes on…THAT song comes on and you use your most upbeat sky punching tone to telegram “yes! oh this song yes!”
And she shoots you with a blank look…that look where weird is cute (maybe charming!) but stay in your lane because weird can also be a deal-breaker and crushingly lets you know it was all a lie with this apathetic year end review: “I don’t know who this is…” and your heart drops to your feet like the oh oh of a toddler unable to grip a plastic cup of apple juice and even if it’s Summertime your body temperature is now as cold as being outside in the Arctic dressed only in a hot pink Speedo.
You say the first thing—not the best thing—not the right thing—you say the first thing that comes to your lips: “But…I put this on your mixtape.”
She’ll try to recover from that betrayal like a celebrity at a sex scandal press conference but you’re not listening…you’re too busy fighting the urge to whisper I thought it was special. You told me I was special. She’ll give you an explanation but all you hear is the shrug and nothing: nothing is ever the same.
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