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Love, So Slippery

Guess who says “I love you” most?

Teenagers! That’s right, dem teens…

A smitten 19-year-old boy confessing his love, whether genuine or not, is an all-too-familiar story:

“I love you,” says Teen Y to Angie.

“Really?” Angie asks, not because she does not believe him, but because she wants to hear it again.

“You know I would do anything for you/It’s only you/You are my only one/(Insert white lie),” the boy almost swears.

He can’t wait to be allowed access to the bee-hive, currently under tight protection.

Long story short, the boy somehow manages to sell his fictional story of eternal love, “2getha 4eva,” etc., to his “Queen.”

She falls for the story and lets him scoop some honey.
Then the “love” turns sour.

After a few similar experiences under her belt (no pun intended), Little Miss Angie starts to see boys for the evil, conniving monsters they are.

So the story now goes like this:

“Don’t pretend to be in love with me… I know y’all,” she warns every male sniffing around for a shot, casual or “serious.”

So the “serious” get filtered out quickly. These are the “good” men in society, responsible to a fault, probably raised in church, and still giving 10% to the Lord every month.

Or even if not staunch Christians, they are still nice, responsible men who believe in family.

But the excitement of the badass bastards is too alluring. These men are total scumbags, and they’re unapologetic about it.

She works tirelessly to rope one into a proper relationship, but they’re ever so slippery, gliding away shamelessly to their next conquest.

For a while, she might be okay with the ups and downs, the push and pull, the pleasure and pain of these romances, but may eventually grow weary of it all.

Then the nice guy waiting on the wings gets his chance. He will try everything possible to charm her, including buying her expensive gifts, and never saying anything that would annoy her.

His offer of marriage will always be on the table…

Then maybe an ex-lover with whom she had a wacky history reappears, and now she’s torn between safety and excitement…

It’s a two-horse race now…but neither of the horses is that appealing.

So she secretly hopes for a third option…

The third option will come when she meets a charming, mid-thirties gentleman at a friend’s wedding.

Well-groomed, courteous, composed, witty, but not boisterous. Probably only missing just one of the three fantasy ingredients (tall, dark and handsome).

And he will say all the right things…

But fail to mention that he’s married.

And now Angie considers herself unlucky in love, but…

Isn’t love a radiance that comes from within, after all?

But that thing always feels so slippery.

That’s what she said!

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