I like to play a game.

I try to manipulate the conversation so that you’ll say you want to see me.

I don’t care about you necessarily. That sounds bad but it’s true.

I’ve just formulated this idea in my head, where my game is, and you’re the next convenient boy to pay attention to me.

I love when you compliment me.

Of course it’s only when I’m naked, your arms all over me. But it still feels good.

To hear you say that Im sexy, I mean. The rest was meh.

And I shouldn’t want to see you again because I didn’t really enjoy myself. And again, I don’t really care about you.

But I care about what you said to me. It’s like adrenaline.

Did you mean it? I’m sure you did at the time.

But what about the rest of the time. Amn’t I always sexy? In fact, why are you not obsessed with me?

If I’m so fucking sexy. And I have a great personality. Why don’t you like me?

I don’t care. I don’t even like you. But my game only works if you want me. I want you to want me.

So I’ll see you again. I’ll tolerate it. Until I get another fix

I love it when you call me sexy. It feels so good. Did you mean it?