texting on the beach

Don’t say you love me if I’m only gray to you. It’s either black or white, yes or no, up or down. There’s no ‘well maybe she’ll work’. I am a gift to you and if you do not cherish me like the queen I am, then leave and stop wasting my time. If you want to be with me, you have to work for it. I am not a prize to be won but I am the judge seeing if you are suitable and willing to deal with me. Deal with my random rambles and my soft kisses and my ugly laugh and my cute chubby tummy and my hot screams. Do not say you want me because I’m better than nothing. If anything, you need me more than I need you.
—  this isn’t my best but oh well

A (kinda) subtle once-over? 

Check. 

Flicking the hair to the side? 

Check. 

Getting real close? As in moving towards and leaning into the other person’s personal space? 

Check. 

Pearl won this interraction without even trying. Well…she did try….but…..ah, you know what I mean.  

Also I liked how MG didn’t start moving closer until Pearl smiled.

This episode was basically a short lesson in flirty body language 101. 

I get such a sick feeling in my stomach when I think about you with somebody else.

Somebody touching you, kissing you, feeling you makes me so sad, but you know what’s even more fucked up?

When I think about you with someone else sitting on a beach at 2 am listening to the sound of the waves.

Do you want to know why this makes me so sad?

Because that’s what you do with a person you really care about.
I mean you can have sex with everyone even without feelings.

But you will never find yourself sitting on a beach with someone, at 2 am who you don’t care about. Sharing stories in the sand with thousands of stars above you.

So yes. The thought of you with someone else at the beach sitting together, talking about life makes me more sad then everything else on this planet.

Because i want it to be me who spends the night with you at the beach. Watching stars, listening to the waves, building sand castles in the dark, drinking the cheap wine out of the bottle while laughing so hard that we spit it everywhere.

—  I want it to be me