The Perfect 10

I remember the day I met her; in fact, I remember the time, the place, and the weather on the day I laid eyes on her. It was 8:15pm on the nineteenth of January at my favorite sneaker boutique, and the rain was working overtime in the dark sky. Her frame was a canvas of beauty adorned with features that I only thought coexisted in my mind as the perfect girl. If she was not a perfect girl, then she was definitely the prototype. She was alone which I found farfetched, but it was her fancy anatomy that made one think that no man could afford her. Indeed, her time was money, so I paid her attention and in exchange, she coined my entire ensemble so well, I needed a receipt.

We left together only to be halted by the rain still hard at work, bathing the parking lot, roof tops, and people who forgot their umbrellas. The rain had transformed a meaningless stroll to the car into a mad dash to a vehicle that seemed further with every second the rainfall increased. We made it to the car and furthermore, to my home.

She was quiet but her body language made up for the silence. Without words, she touched my soul and in return, I touched hers, we were a perfect fit. When we would go out, she would compliment my attire, and people would praise us on how exquisite we looked together. It simply felt like walking on air when we were together. She had expressed to me that she had seen many girls like her stepped over mainly because of how they looked and that was why she stayed alone and did not prefer large crowds of people. Her image was all that she had. What I wore when I was with her determined how well she looked in public so she stayed on my heels about my image and how I had to maintain a certain level of style for her to be with me. How could I say no? I knew she was very materialistic, but I thought that we were the perfect pair.

All my friends liked her and people on the street would speak of her elegance and beauty. They would look at her the way I did when I first laid eyes on her. This did not anger me in the least capacity, in fact, I enjoyed every minute of it. She gave me a supreme level of confidence when I was with her, so much that I often thought that if I chose to walk on water, it wouldn’t feel much different from the wet pavement we scurried across on that rainy day when we first met. She wasn’t highly excitable, but she would become exceedingly high-strung when I would lace her with the finest threads. This made her seem to stand out when she was with me; she was a shoe-in for the center of attention. When she stood out, I did also, sometimes more than she did. It made her happy to know I was happy. She would kiss my feet and I would caress her tongue and touch her sole in ways no man ever could.

As time went by, I began to grow apart from her. The years had not been kind to her as she began to let herself go. When we were intimate, she would often make my toes curl and never in the good way most people would think of. She had aged much quicker then I had anticipated, but in the time we did spend together, I took great care of her. I was without a doubt the bigger person in the relationship for many reasons. I had grown out of her. I knew that being with her would only harm her but hurt me far worse than any pain I could withstand. I could feel the ache right down to my toes. Our relationship was good while it lasted, and she served her purpose in my life as I am sure I did in hers. It was the best relationship I had ever stepped foot into. She was the perfect ten, but I had grown to realize that I would need a ten and a half.

By: xxCoreyxx
Image: SC