About Us

Her (10:08 a.m.): Hey
Me (10:08:20 a.m.): Hey
Her: Whatcha doin'?
Me: Wonderin' if you meant to be so cruel to me for the past three days, or if it was just a series of unfortunate events.
Her: Cruel is a bit harsh.
Me: Yes, it is.
Her: I didn't feel well yesterday and slept all day.
Me: Well, yes, you said that your tummy did not feel well.
Her: You didn't call me yesterday. Cruel would be me not taking your calls, which is not the case. Me: True; and I did call on Saturday, and got your voicemail. And then yesterday, and got your voicemail, and then gave up.
Her: You called yesterday?
Me: And then you said you would call last night, and I waited, and waited, and no call. So I went to bed all weepy.
Her: My phone did not show that you called yesterday.
Me: I wasn't gonna call again, 'cause I knew I would get your voicemail, and I never leave messages since you never listen to them.
Her: Well that's true. I read your poems today . . . you are writing excellent stuff, and I really mean that.
Me: Yes, they have felt really good, mostly, for a while now. Did you read "How You Know"?
Her: I did. And I liked it so much that I copied and pasted it into a Word doc.
Me: It is how my days are; it was easy to write, I just thought about the day before.
Her: You know I can't give you what you want.
Me: You could, you're just afraid to; you can't picture only loving me for a while, and then losing me; I can't picture not loving you at all.
Her: I know. I'm only causing you hurt and confusion. Where did you go?
Me: I'm here. No, you're not causing me hurt and confusion; you're keeping me alive.
Her: I am causing you confusion, I read it in your poem, and I knew it anyway; and I cannot be responsible for keeping you alive.
Me: You never know what you can do until you have to; you won't be responsible when I die.
Her: Oh good Lord, stop talking about dying. And I love you. But you know that everything else makes "us" too complicated.
Me: Well I just wanted to make it clear that your responsibility does not include my dying. And I know you love me, you just don't love me enough to take that leap. But maybe you will after a while, who knows?
Her: LOL
Me: You never would have predicted us.
Her: Kiss [Emoticon]
Me: I never would have predicted us.
Her: I know.
Me: So...you're a girl, huh?[Emoticon]
Her: Last time I checked . . . LOL
Me: And so when life gives you rickys, you make rickyade.
Her: haha
Me: And so when it gives you janets, you make janetsauce.
Her: LOL
Me: And is it perfect, what we have, well probably not.
Her: Not.
Me: But it's damned sure the best thing that either one of us has ever had, and likely ever will, and that's the truth.
Her: Party! [Emoticon]
Me: And if you were here on my lap right now, I would kiss you and squeeze you and never let you go, because I've never known a woman who could make me cry like you can; and now you do it by typing, for pete's sake; big tears, the size of Volkswagens, just all of a sudden, and I can't see the keyboard so well or the monitor.
Her: Oh, Ricky.
Me: I gotta go outside and have a smoke, so if you wanna keep talking, we'll have to do it on the phone. Can you handle that now?
Her: Okay, hold on. I can't handle you crying.
Me: Okay, I've stopped crying; it was just a momentary thing, it just happened.
Her: Okay. Well gimme a minute.
Me: I just was typing and then these giant tears came out of my eyes, rolled down my cheeks and hit my shirt.
Her: Jeez. I'm not worth crying like that over.
Me (10:33 a.m.): Yes, you are.


January 5, 2009, by rickya and justagirl.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.