"Men are boring, and will always be. After dinner he’ll try to kiss you, and you may concede, lightly leaning in with mild acceptance, your lips pensively sealed as you feel a tepid patch of wet on your cheek, a lost ship moving towards the mouth. You will become a name he’ll ask about years later, a face he never dared to see on his pillow thinned out by a million lies. You will hear cars rushing behind you to their respective destinations, driven by people who, for one moment at red, turned their heads to see the quaint sad scene of two people going through the mechanisms of a curb goodbye."
http://thoughtcatalog.com/2011/burrito-threesome/
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