He Told Me

He told me I smelled nice.
And that I was sweet.
He told me I was husband material.
And then we had sex.
He actually wanted to find the spot that would arouse me.
And he asked about my life.
He was turned on by how shy I was.
I was a little shy. Nervous. For he would be gone in an hour and I probably wouldn't ever see him again.
He wasn't my type.
And I'm not sure if I liked him. But I was interested. I was interested in his life.
He graduated with a degree in print journalism. He had a minor in English. He was a flight attendant. He got his masters degree in public health. He teaches at a community college part time.
That is a life.
And my life? What is my life? It's been a year since I was laid off from a career that was not for me. Was that a career?
You're your problem. You're also your solution.
What is my solution? I have to stop dreaming. If I wasn't sick. If I didn't inherit money. Would I have more?
This is happiness. I am happy. I am searching.
This is me. Introspective. Wondering. An aimless wanderer.
Will I ever let myself be loved?
He told me I was husband material.
Do I want a husband? Or do I just like the idea of one?
Everyone's rejected. I'm braver than I think. I'm stronger than I know.
Can I live my life alone?
I've always liked to share.
He grabbed my face before he left.
Shocked at the blue eyes that looked back at him. My eyes.
Most people are attracted to my eyes.
Will I ever be attracted to the person I am?
Good enough to be loved.
He told me I was husband material.
And then he left like all the rest.