I began to walk a little faster. This is my fault. I knew that I didn’t know her; I just desired her body. What the hell is wrong with me? Was she worth the effort in the end? Hell no. Then why did…I understand. Her body was worth my self-worth and lowering my standards. Damn…then that means, that means… “I’m just as bad as her, possibly worse,” I said aloud, as a woman stared at me. I shot her a mean look. As if she doesn’t trap herself in a labrynth of thoughts. My date, who is by now fuming and venting on the phone, is shallow and at least owns up to it; I try to pretend as if I’m better than that.

Well, it looks like there’s the problem. Damn it. I gotta wonder though: if I want a pretty outside on the pretty inside, am I just as bad as her or am I just as normal as the rest? No, I’m not as bad as her; it’s just my standard are pretty high is all. I smiled and laughed.

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