The last man I loved was a boy at heart. He would stop in the street to stare at stuff, into display windows. Once stood stock still watching a spider spin his web in a parking garage. Kissed me in my car, in my workplace, in dark corners, but never in my house.

Chewed tobacco even though he knew it was a nasty habit. Tried to fast but snuck candy. Was unabashedly sexy.

Flirted with every woman he met. Stared at women in the street. Openly made comments about them in front of me. Got distracted by my breasts. Could not take his advances spurned. Gave my neck more attention than it had had in years. Spit my words back at me.

Was so sensitive I could turn him on in about five seconds flat. He felt guilty about that. I never did.

Ate my pussy at midnight in a walkway where a bank met a parking lot four blocks from his house. Walked me past a park he didn't like the look of because he was worried about my safety. Could not hold his liquor.

Had read HOW TO WIN FRIENDS AND INFLUENCE PEOPLE at a young age. Used it all the time to make people like him.

Was a great kisser. Liked it rough. Made up rules for himself. Hurt me, left a mark, lied about it. Caused me more pain than any man ever has. Physically, and emotionally. Could not own it. I would have done anything for him. I still would. He knew it. He could do nothing for me.

Could not communicate directly. Said no when he meant yes. Said yes when he meant no. Had really trashy taste in music, but was a completely educated professional.

Was successful but scared. Sensitive, but a total asshole. Cheerful, but hostile. Had a great sense of humor. Was an adrenaline junkie. Loved how smart I was. Never lied to me. Never led me on.

Was married to someone else.

We had no chance in hell.

One day I'll love again.