goodbye baller.
if this had been another time and place baller. there’s no way you would have escaped without parts of you in conversation with part of me that aren’t dinner party polite. but. baller. i am holding my tongue for three reasons. love. pride. and something like peanut butter. love for my man who will be right back and for some reason thinks (erroneously!) that I’m really fine enough for not just one but a team of ballers to be flirting with so much so that he only half-jokingly asked if he was safe if he went to the restroom and left me in your presence. a man who thinks his 36-year-old bride-to-be is food for Toro thought? That’s Love. pride because i can’t be a groupie just can’t be the one split in two by four to add to tales that start on the matchbook of even the best sports bar no. and peanut butter? well that’s because it’s how i was so stuck to the roof of my mouth in speech where celebrities normally have no effect on me from Bill Cosby to Allen “My Third Husband” Iverson. You. Baller. Had me at the breath before you cleared your throat to order me a drink. Oh so much before hello. if next lifetime has me meet you before the foul line is in play? every three point shot made or not will be a kiss to send you into dreams or fantasy but until then. i have to say