i wrote a short story. here it is i guess Ode to a Failing Relationship I've already said this at least 20 times tonight, but as we round the corner to Jim's donut shop, your eyes glinting wildly at me, I can't help but blurt it out once more. "You were meant for me" I say, slamming my hand against my mouth, trying desparately to stop myself. I don't know why you've got such a hold on me. You're not perfect, and neither am i, but when we're together we have no faults. Being with you produces the same feelings in me that singing my favorite song does. I can never get tired of it. Of you. Of these feelings. We're sitting, picking at our food, Lisa walks in and your disposition changes somehow. You become incredibly smooth and flirty. I hate it. At the moment I hate you. She leaves, and still smiling you turn to me. "What the fuck was that?" I ask. You look at me guiltily, I hate that I can't fucking stay mad at you. You'll make it up to me you say. This time I hope you mean it. We head to your place where you say you've got a surprise for me. You forget that I know you like I know the back of my hand, as cliché as that sounds. I already know that your "surprise" is a movie or two, and cuddling, but I don't ruin your excitement. We get there, I feign surprise, we settle down. Kissing my neck you whisper, "Lisa sucks. You know you look beautiful tonight, right?" I look you straight in the face and say, "Must be the pleasure of your company strewn across my face." All I hear is your chuckling and then you turn to trace my lips with your tongue. Finally, the movies done, our date sharing the same fate as they, you walk me home. We kiss goodbye, this is all very routine. Before you leave you ask, "See you tomorrow?" "Sure" I answer, wondering why you enjoy spending so much time with me. Instead of going in, I stop, call out for you and ask you this. "Because," you say "You were meant for me."