number 10

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When I first met you I hated you.

You were dating my best friend- and you dated half the girls in my gym class.

I could count almost 2 hands worth of girls in that one class that you dated.

Most of which you dated for only moments.

And that day I promised myself I was never going to be the girl that was the 10th finger on the second hand.

But hey, some promises were made to be broken.

That summer I walked up the same hill day after day just to see you walking in the opposite direction towards me with your baggy shorts, too-big t-shirts, shaggy hair, and crooked smile.

I spent every day with you that summer.

Watching movies, eating nachos, wrapped up in this new love I found as if I were a priceless gift a mother wrapped for her daughter on her 16th birthday.

It was a summer of perfection.

June, July, and August days were spent walking down the street together in the sun, drinking cold Arizona, laughing at nothing, our fingers interlocked.

The nights were spent watching movies on your couch, laying on your trampoline, star-gazing in the humid darkness. Our hands.. remained intertwined together.

But September came and the leaves changed from green to gold, to russet brown.

Your personality got colder with the seasons. And the love I was wrapped up in became lose.

I offered a priceless gift to you. I offered you my love.

And like the mother of that teenage girl, I gave it to you with confidence, only to be struck with the disappointment that the priceless gift had already been received.

You already experienced the not-so-perfect present called love.

It was all a waste.

I spend so much time with you and it was thrown away for what?

Not even 2 months passed and you had already found another girl to add to your collection.

I guess your fingers were cramped, so you had to start over on a new hand.

It's a never-ending cycle.

I hope someday you'll realize girls aren't objects. They aren't numbers.

They aren't fingers that slowly add up until there are no more and you have to begin counting again from the beginning.

Use your hands to hold her. Use your hands to teach her. Use your hands to love her.

Because anyone can use their hands to count.

I spent ONE summer with you

only TWO realize how stupid I was for wasting those

THREE hot months with you. And FOUR what reason?

You came to school FIVE days a week only to ignore me for those SIX hours.

But once the summer came you spent every second with me SEVEN days a week.

I came over your house every Sunday and EIGHT dinner with you and your parents.

I think about you sometimes. I think about the NINE girls you dated before me.

But then I think about how much I regret being that last finger. I regret wasting my time with you.

I regret being your number TEN.

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⏰ Last updated: Apr 23, 2014 ⏰

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