Friday, March 18, 2005

Do you smell that?

I don’t deserve her.

She makes me nervous. Even though I know I’m the one she’ll come home to, when I look at her I get nervous, like she’ll change her mind. Maybe that’s a leftover from the several years I spent wishing. Yeah, she’s gorgeous. Physically, she’s always been mind blowing. But mentally, and emotionally, she’s tough as nails and that’s what I like.

I doubted things back in December. She cried at the drop of a hat and I wondered, ‘Is she who I thought she was?’ Pretty shallow, I know, but fuck you and me both. Me for doubting, you for telling me it’s normal. I wasn’t public about it, but I quietly fell apart back then. Shit, it's been 5 months since I learned of the babies and I still can't get to sleep. She was perfect and that was her biggest flaw. Nobody’s perfect. Something had to be wrong with her and the scary part was that I knew I’d figure it out after the ‘till death do we part’ stuff. And then we'd both be screwed.

Well, I found her flaw tonight. She’s not only imperfect, she’s way below par in one particular arena. I was devastated.

It’s her feet.

Jasmine has the stinkiest feet I have ever smelled in my life. Yeah, she’s got the face of an angel, the body of a goddess, the mind of a genius and the heart of a saint. But holy god damn she’s also got the feet of a Sasquatch wearing last year’s sneakers.

She stank up my desk area when she blogged, then she sat down next to me on the sofa and complained about cramps in her feet. A foot massage? Oh, hell no! And risk staining my skin with your foulness? Uh uh. You need to take your stank ass, rotting feet into the bathroom and scrub those sons of bitches with Dial anti-bacterial soap and battery acid before I pass out from the fumes. And don't come back in here without a can of country fresh Lysol in your hand.

I was right. I don’t deserve her. I ain’t been bad enough in my life to be sentenced to that odor.