Congratulations on Getting Rid of Your Poster!

“FUCK YOU!”

She’ll storm out of your dorm room still wearing your shirt and underwear, walking barefoot through the snow to her dorm. You’ll want to scream at her that she’s overreacting, that she should at least put her shoes on. That she has warm winter clothing and that she’ll likely catch cold the way she’s strutting about. But you won’t be able to find the courage to utter a word.

Instead you’ll watch her as she goes, watch the motion of her ass in your underwear. You’ll both be too young to think that this will last, too foolish to realize that sometimes never means forever. You’ll be particularly unconcerned with the thought that she’ll never be back. Women frequently leave your bed in rage and come back several days later, since you have a thing for emotionally damaged angry women who flip out at you.

What will be wearing on you will be the fact that, as she walks across the quad she’ll be clutching the lion’s share of your poster of two girls kissing. You know the one, the one that every single douchebag in college has posted above their bed. She’ll be ripping it up as she goes, knowing that this is going to hurt you, knowing it’ll make you angry the next time you’re together even if you’re inside her.

She won’t turn back to see you looking out after her through your rapidly fogging window. She won’t have to turn to know you’re there, seething, pressing your tongue against your teeth, wishing you could open your window, shout the price of the poster (fourteen dollars and seventy five cents American) and then slam it shut. But you know if you do that then she’ll really be gone. This is her way of winning, her way of taking away your control. You won’t even know she’s doing it.

But she will. And you won’t see it, but she’ll have a tiny smile on her face as she rips the two kissing women in twain, letting the scraps fall to the ground, stumbling a little as her feet go numb.

Congratulations on Getting Rid of Your Poster!