hook, line, and sinker

the road trips were my favorite. always has been. for some reason, they calmed me.

he calmed me. with juicy stories about his past or just about any random shit that came to his mind while maneuvering through melbourne traffic.

i remember sitting on the passenger seat held hostage by the seat belt and his words. he had a way with words. still does. his animated way of talking fascinated the stoic in me while i quietly sat there digesting his energy. politely asking questions if i felt the need to.

i rarely talked about myself.

he thought i was very strict. i told him it was part of my mystique. that cracked him up.

frankston beachfrankston beachfrankston beach

whatever strategy he did to get me to come out of my shell, it worked.

it could’ve been the playful verbal sparring sent back and forth through cryptic text messages which kept me on my toes, sharpening my wit and my vocabulary while almost giving me carpal tunnel syndrome.

it could have been the interesting conversations we had during dinners.

or perhaps, considering my 6-week ham and cheese sandwich diet, it could’ve been just those dinners alone. like that really delicious one we had at frankston where he voluntarily broke his strict vegetarian diet and ate fish with me. for me. silently gagging the whole time. lol. poor thing. (i’m talking about the fish. haha.)

frankston beach

but one of the reasons that drew me to him? he can get really crazy sometimes. like, spontaneously crazy. and the best part is, he doesn’t care.

like when he suddenly took off his shirt and blinded me with his, um, belt buckle. that was crazy.

although thinking about it now, that must have been the strategy that hooked me right in. bad jeffy! lol.

frankston beach

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4 thoughts on “hook, line, and sinker

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