Public Key (Lx)

I spent the next hour running through the conversation in my head, like a middle-schooler who’d just had a run-in with their secret crush. Basically I was mortified. Basically I realized that anything which kept me from committing harakiri was an error of judgment.

I’d never been what you call suave. Not with girls. Not with anybody. If I couldn’t play the guitar I’d probably still be OH not going there.

But this was different. I had stuttered like a schoolboy. I’d felt it, in my head: my mouth was leading, my brain was hardly in the running. She could have pushed me and I’d have fallen over. Would that she had.

I was just rusty. I knew that. Just rusty, that’s all. It had been a few months since I’d really talked with a girl. Most of the girls I’d seen didn’t speak English. And I really hadn’t seen all that many.

That was the point, right? I was in seclusion. I wasn’t supposed to be flirting. I wasn’t supposed to be letting myself be seen by anyone, let alone interrogated by Americans. This wasn’t a skill I should want to recover. Especially as its recovery could only be accomplished by doing that which I needed to avoid.

But – man, she was really pretty.

Oh, God.



~ by davekov on 28 February 2011.

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