Hi. Hello. I hope you're my good karma. 'Cuz your face? Yeah, I like that shit. Matter fact, I think if we combined it with mine to make mini versions of us, they could be baby GAP models.
Like, for real.
Like, for real.
So I'm asking you. No, I'm begging you: Please sweep me off my feet. 'Cuz I refuse to let the nice guy finish second in a two-person race when the other dude ain't even getting off of his fucking couch. I'm rootin for ya, I really am. Along with her, and her, and him, and every other person I know that wants to see me happy.
But the heart wants what it wants. I'm hoping that after a few more non-dates it'll want you. 'Cuz I could be crazy (well, we've already established that) buuut, I think ... I think a lot. Too much. But this time? I think ... it might. just. work.
So if you miss me, don't let me know. If you like me, don't let it show. If you want to kiss me, please refrain. And when there's other people around, don't say my name. Go out with the boys and don't return my text. Don't look in my eyes. Don't tell me I'm beautiful. And make sure to check out other women as they walk by. Because I swear I'll fuck shit up if you don't.
I know, it's ridiculous. How about you just don't give me too much too soon. And I know I'm acting like a bitch, but don't be an asshole either. You can thank me later, when we're doing what it is that creates those baby Gap models. 'Cuz it's not that I don't like nice guys. I love yall. And I empathize. I'm a nice girl ...
... that got some bad habits. So once again I'm asking. No, I'm begging: Please sweep me off my feet ... before I walk all over you.