Greetings from Colorado

When you injure a minor body part and just decide to keep playing through it

He’s not the ‘forever’ type. He’ll take you to a park on your first date and ask you to dance to hungry eyes, and he’ll say ‘gosh, you’re intelligent - you’re not just smart, you’re intelligent’ and he’ll say it like there’s actually a difference. On the second date he’ll make you fall in love. Not the ‘real’ kind of love but the heart racing, take-your-breath-away kind that says, ‘I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone like this again.’ The cruelest thing he’ll do is let you believe you have a special place in his heart. He’ll call at 10am or 10pm or halfway through dinner. He’ll call and your heart will lurch and you’ll swoon and laugh and pretend it didn’t hurt when he didn’t turn up last Saturday. He’ll call and you’ll drop your ego like you drop your knife and fork, and you’ll run straight to his front door. And standing on his porch, you’ll smooth over your skirt and hair, and bite your bottom lip like a schoolgirl who hasn’t learnt her lesson, and he’ll answer the door and say, come, meet my friend. I’m teaching her to dance. She likes hungry eyes too.