I Ate All the Pizza
#11 Millennial Menoirs
“Fucking hell, Jeff*. Why say you’re nearly here at 6pm and continue to say you’re nearly here but not actually appear until nearly 9pm?!”
“Well, I wouldn’t let me in if I were you.”
“That doesn’t answer my question?”
“To be fair, I was nearly here at 6pm. And 7pm. And 8:20pm. I made it to the doorway a number of times but then I kept lapping the block imagining every clever thing I should have said to him this afternoon and how he’d have really liked that, the old bastard. Don’t you ever do that? I find myself in the shower laughing at the brilliant, bitter words and forget how long I’ve been standing there.”
I looked at him, straight-faced.
He swallowed.
“Are you going to let me in?”
“Yes, but I’m hungry and I’m not impressed.”
He followed me up the stairs.
“Oh, you’ve made a floor picnic? I’m so sorry. Is that pizza?”
I sat down on the floor without answering.
I began to eat the pizza, glowering at him.
“Yikes. You’re pissed off.”
“You’re just so unreliable.”
He sidled up beside me, behind me, kissing my neck and unbuttoning my shirt as I finished the first slice, liberally dunking the crust into the garlic sauce without care and chomping on it decisively, dramatically.
I shrugged him off.
“Don’t think you can have some just because you’re being nice to me.”
“Oh I don’t want any.”
His voice was like silk.
“You can have it all.”
I stopped chewing, looking over my shoulder to face him.
“No. Don’t kiss me. Don’t even look at me.” he said, his body pressing into my back, lowering me slowly to the rug.
“Just keep eating your pizza, Sally.”
“Just keep eating your pizza.”
…………………………………..
*Names have been changed
‘Millennial Menoirs’ (no, not memoirs, it’s a pun) is a series of short pieces written about my experiences of dating within my generation.
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