Booty Call

so I saw her again today, been a few years. I was vulnerable and fell in love fast, and backed away as the red flags got trotted out, one by one.
We had reconnected she was a waitress at the deli, where I played guitar. She went to university and studied English, 4 bachelors and a masters, I went to art school, and 20 years later here we are having coffee and then dinner.
I like my men to walk me up to my apartment she said after, and a nice snog and good night. Best kisser ever, and we had talked for hours with dinner, I was smitten,
A while later she came over for dinner, and she brought 2 bottles of wine and polished one off as I don’t drink like that.
Around 10 she took a call, snickered ‘booty call’ as she took it, and arranged to meet someone at her apartment at 12.
Off the phone, I said, I think you’d better leave, this is pretty rude and I find it hard on me. But I’m too drunk to drive..well you can call a cab from your car, I’ll walk you down and make sure you are locked in, the cab will be here soon…
Saw her a few weeks later, in the coffee shop, raging mad, I mean pissed off, how I had abandoned her, and I said it might be the amount of booze you poor down your throat. She stormed out.
I saw her this morning, years later, packing on the calories from the booze, splotched face, staring at me with hate, as I got my coffee….
Dylan wrote her a song I find….

 

 

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