See, what had happened was I wouldn’t have noticed him if you hadn’t said anything. I might looked him up and down and thought yeah he looks all right but that would have been the end of it. It would have been like that song from Walk the Line: “It ain’t me, babe.” Cuz men who look like him won’t have a thing to do with me. That’s not low self-esteem. That’s keeping it real. Why delude yourself, you know, think about something that won’t be nothing, get your feelings all up in it, like I’ve done with other dudes. Anyway, you had to go and say you should be with him. So the next time I saw him, my face got hot but I couldn’t stop staring. Man, if he don’t have the body and the face is all right, too. But no, I have to stop. Yesterday, he had to stop by and chitchat and I could feel my cheeks go red, all that blood rush-rushing(wasn’t that a bad Paula Abdul song?)through me as I tried to play it off cool. Beautiful men always did make me nervous.
It’s all your fault. When you ask me about him, you put me on the spot and for the third time I’m red as the crab that stands for my zodiac sign. Damnit!