18 11 2013
yoga pants that show off that booty
Hey, two tables over there’s a girl who’s pretty cute.
Not my type; brown, straight for hair and a dent in her chin, but cute with an orthodontist’s smile and most days that’ll do just fine, thanks.
I use old techniques. Pretend to read “The Street of Crocodiles” while using the spine to shield the overtness of my gaze. Or in case I get caught, there’s less of me show embarrassment. I’d really feel like an ass — even though it’s so meaningless I don’t care to help it — if I got caught staring at this girl who right now is doing what everyone does nowadays when they’re alone: looking endlessly at her phone as if she’s waiting for it to kiss her or at least change her life completely for a second or two.
I just want to look, ok? Jeezus.
Every once and awhile I glance down at the same book page. Take a bite of something on the plate.
I’ve looked long enough to know there’s no way in hell I could date this girl much less love her. I can see all her faults and like most people, my god, they’re too much to overlook. But she does wear capri-cut yoga pants. There’s something to say about women who can rock those pants outside the gym. Show off. She’ll make someone happy, probably.
But all of the sudden, the couple to my left stands up to leave.
This girl leaps into action. Like this is her purpose. She doesn’t even try to hide it as she scoops all her belongings on the table up with both arms and hurriedly follows after them.