A.B.

I remember writing this in my AP Stats class about this boy who was trying to have sex with me. I was right to have my doubts.

You're desperate, straightforward.

I know, I can tell.

You're a self-proclaimed addict and expert,

but yet you have yet to reach my level.

You're inexperienced compared to me.

I'm skeptical of your abilities.

You say a lot without actually proving anything.

You are so eager, too wiling to boast.

I play along entertaining your haphazard plans.

Knowing this will never be.

I enjoy this game.

What else better to do with my time?

Late night conversations-we should be sleeping.

But it's okay.

I wonder if actually presented with this opportunity would action take place?

Will you live up to the greatness you claim you are, or just be another waste?

You're no different than the rest, sadly.

I expected more from you honestly.

Another one for my degrading subconscious.

I'll suppress my urge to laugh when you tell me your statistics

and I'll be sure to stifle my yawn when you brag about your "talent."

I guess this is what happens when you fall for a pretty face.

Never would have taken you for the self-proclaimed "freak type."

I bet you don't even know how old I am.

We really are just strangers.