Spectacle

I made an ass of myself Super Bowl night. Putting my husband and myself on display by pretending like I couldn’t keep my hands off him. When in reality I just wanted to put my hands all over someone else. The man sitting across from me. Im such an idiot. He’s not interested. Never would be. I can’t help it. I go through periods, these last ten years, when all I can think of is him. I try to push my thoughts back into the recesses of my mind. Try to forget how sexy he is. How he looks soft and loving but underneath there is something dark and hard. I have to forget again.