The Pick-Up

I want to be inside you.

Surgically, I mean.

There’s nothing in this world more intimate than to be wrist deep in the organs of another human being, to feel the warmth of their blood on your hands as you caress their innards, really dig into the viscera, grow to truly understand who they are, on the inside.

This is a shallow world we live in, and we so often get lost in the superficial, never thinking to probe deeper into the people with whom we’ve chosen to spend our time, never going beyond the surface layer.

I don’t want to fall into this trap with you.

I want to see who you are, inside. I believe, truly believe, that you’re worth knowing, worth exploring, in a deeper, more meaningful way. You deserve to be understood, deserve someone who’s willing to put in the effort, and I want to be that person.

So let’s get out of here, shall we? Let’s go back to my place, tie you down, crack open your chest and see what you’ve got going on in there…

And no, obviously we won’t be putting you under, we won’t be using anesthetic of any kind.

You will be awake for every moment of this; perfectly conscious and perfectly aware of everything that’s happening to you.

I’d never engage in anything this intimate and personal with someone who wasn’t completely present in the moment while it was going on.

To cut you open while you were unconscious would be a gross violation of your agency as a human being, above and beyond the simple fact that I would never want to deprive you of what will no doubt be a unique and incredibly intense experience.

You’ll be awake when I make the first incision. That’s non-negotiable. I could do no less.

The very thought of it disgusts me.

I’m not a monster, after all…

Bomb

Baby, you’re the bomb.

Uncontrollable, easy to set off and wildly destructive, caring little for the people caught up in your wake as you tear through everything around you.

I hope whoever was responsible for creating you spent the rest of their life repenting, like Nobel or Oppenheimer, because unleashing you on an unsuspecting world made life worse for everyone you come in contact with, so great is your capacity for careless, wanton destruction…

Because, Baby, you are the bomb.

And, I realize too late, what I’d really needed in my life was somebody who was more of a balm…

You

I see you across the room and my heart takes flight.

Your eyes sparkle with unmasked amusement at whatever your companion’s saying, and when you throw back your head to laugh, it’s music.

I can’t hear it from the other side of the room, but I see you laugh, and I know in my heart that it’s music.

You’re a vision, radiant, standing out from the other people at this party like some ethereal thing, tolerating them yet standing apart.

Above.

I have to know you, and so I push through the crowd.

“Um… hi.”

Christ, I suck at this…