Do you know how when a very beautiful woman is close by and you first see into her enchanting mystic black pupils, her every hooking eyelash and down her squishy cheeks? Just when it’s enough to turn you momentarily retarded, her pink lips crack apart and expose her ivory white teeth for the first time.
This smile is brand new.
It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before – a fresh beginning, a redo, the slate has been wiped clean. This strange woman is about to make your balls explode inside your pants. It’s always in these moments I want nothing more than love.
I experienced this recently.
The one and only spark that never burns out in a relationship – her smile. It’s easy to get tired of their kisses and how they don’t feel like the first time, but it’s something about that smile and how her eyes are perfectly in tune with yours that never runs its course. When I think back of women who I’ve been romantically linked to this is always the first frozen picture in my imagination. It’s their lit up Christmas tree faces as if I’m all they’ve ever wanted.
You can’t fuck with that.
Sure, she can spread and do cute things to you, but it’s always those pretty smiles I end up on. Then of course a rememberable sexual experience followed by a knockdown drag-out fight and why you left that crazy bitch in the first place… but their smiles never die.
Look, even an asshole like me can feel the scratch of curiosity. I didn’t even know this woman, but I know the feeling. She exposed her ivory white teeth to me. I saw them as clear as day. It’s that goddamn smile. That good shit feeling people try to recreate with drug use and end up destroying their lives over. These smiles are dropping fools like crazy. This beautiful bitch could have killed me.
Let’s say we ended up sharing a long conversation over a cup of coffee. Let’s write we fell madly in love and then one day out of the blue she decides it’s over. I wake up next to a note on the pillow reading:
“You know Jesse,
I wanted to write something sincere, but at this point I don’t even care. It’s over. Don’t be here when I get home from work, okay?”
The word love is scratched out and replaced with “Seriously, don’t be here” followed by whatever this fictional woman’s name is. Personally, she sounds like a Melissa or a Courtney. Those are fucked up names – never trust them. I should have known better, but it’s those fucking smiles.
I’m helpless.
Little do I know this same smile is smeared across the asphalt no more than two miles from here after being thrown through the front windshield of her car. Never text and drive. My dear Melissa was text messaging her mother to announce the fact she finally left my ass and didn’t see the truck pull out in front of her. She died almost instantly. This kind of shocking heartache will only lead to heavy drug use on my part. Her family of course despises me and blames our relationship for the death of their daughter. In their eyes if I had been a better boyfriend their baby girl wouldn’t be buried six feet in the ground.
“It’s not my fault!”
I try to tell them, I was constantly telling her not to text and drive, but she never listened. Her older six foot tall brother doesn’t listen neither and routinely beats the living shit out of me and because of that I’ve come accustomed to pissing blood.
Further drug use on my part. That smile. Masturbation.
Her family is excelling at destroying my reputation to the point of me no longer being able to find myself a job. Further drug use. That smile. Masturbation. I’m now incapable of supporting myself and have no choice, but to move in with my mother. Further drug use. That smile. My mother walks in on me masturbating. Further drug use! Embarrassment. That smile.
I’m now injecting heroin into my dick. Hunger is a thing of the past and I weigh a whopping 115 pounds. That smile. Further drug use. Heavy vomiting because my mother will no longer give me money to buy my drugs. I have no choice but to walk the streets and wait for homosexual men desperate enough to pay for a man in my condition.
Further drug use. That smile.
I’m now impotent. I haven’t been able to produce a stiff dick since November. Further drug use. That smile. I’ve contracted aids from sharing needles. Further drug use. That smile. I’m now living out my last days in a hospital bed with an I.V. drip. That smile. Morphine drip. My mother gives the doctor the okay to pull the plug. That smile. My mother cries.
I’m gone. There is no afterlife. No smile. I pissed my entire life away on a pair of pearly whites.
