Purple and Green Stripes

Dear Dana,

I'm writing this in the car so I'm sorry if my handwriting's a bit off. Don't worry, I'm not driving while doing this. I'm actually parked just in front of your apartment. Don't bother looking down, by the time you read this, I'll be long gone. I can just imagine the look on your face right now, a mixture of scared, pissed off, and confused. Before you get any ideas, let me clarify that I am not stalking you nor am I close to slashing my wrists. If you're wondering what I'm doing here, well, it's funny, I'm scared, pissed off and confused too.

I'm scared that I scared you off. Yes, I know what we did. I was there. We had sex. Hot and steamy sex. Sex so good that I can still smell your hair and feel your skin in my dreams. But that's not all we did that night. We talked about how you love both popcorn and chips and not one over the other. We talked about my love for books and how I will never replace paper with digital. We talked about how long it takes you to get to the office every morning and how you're swamped at work. We talked about my top five dream jobs and how I scratched "film director" from the list to make way for "Thomas Keller's sous chef."

Somehow, I felt something. A connection, at least. Maybe you saw that in my eyes and that scared you. After I left that night, after you closed the door, I wanted to go back and stay with you, even for a few more minutes.Yes, we did have sex but it wasn't the only thing we did. It wasn't just "nothing." Well, for me, anyway.

And that's what pisses me off.

The fact that you could stand in front of me, look me in the eye and tell me that it was nothing. That's cold. That's real cold. Yeah, maybe that night started out with the kind of fucking reserved for R18 movies but I'm pretty sure it didn't end with that too. Not many films end with sex scenes. I'm not even sure if any did. I'm not new to this, Dana. I've been with other people and I know how this game should be played but somehow, it seems that I was the one who was played with and I just don't appreciate that. Maybe to you, I'm just another funny anecdote you can share to your girlfriends but sorry, I don't feel that way about you.

What I am, right now, is confused. Why do I care whether you answer my calls or not? Why am I bothered by your cold demeanor? Why am I here and not back at the party, looking for girls? Why is it so hard not to think about you? Why isn't sex the only thought that comes to mind when I remember you? Why am I feeling this way for someone I barely know?

I guess, here in the car, right in front of your apartment, writing all this down on the notebook that I bought for you, I think I know the answer to all my questions.

Thing is, it probably won't matter anyway.

For whatever wrong I did to you, I'm sorry. Take care, Dana. and thank you.

Bye,

Rob

********************

Dana was late for work.

Fucking party, she thought as she picked up her house keys. She rushed out the main door and closed it behind her. As she did, she heard a thud, like something hit her door. Hanging on the door knob was a used Fully Booked plastic bag. Dana reached for it and removed it from the knob. She peered inside and saw a notebook.

A beige hardbound notebook with green and purple stripes.

***** The End? *****