Slay, Lady Santa, slay.
There’s nothing more romantic than love lost and found.
We sat next to each other on the overnight Megabus from Memphis to Chicago last Thursday, and the sexual tension was fucking palpable. You: looking SUPER hot and urban in skinny jeans and a North Face puffer jacket. Me: wearing a homemade Blues Traveler tee shirt and Oakley sunglasses. I introduced myself as Harvey and you totally gamed me as you crinkled your nose and turned the other way. That’s when I busted out my economy-sized bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and impressed the shit out of you with my idea for a screenplay. You were so blown away that you closed your eyes, presumably to make it easier to picture the story.
Later, we cuddled a little when I fell asleep on your shoulder, until you woke me up and teased me with “please stay in your seat.” You were playing hard to get so bad. That’s when I knew we had a future. After we both got off the bus at Union Station, I slipped my cousin’s beeper number in your purse so you could reach me, but you must have lost it because I haven’t heard from you. Despite that, I followed you home that day and I have been watching you sleep every night in your apartment in Roscoe Village, except for those two nights you crashed at some guy’s apartment in Lakeview. I assume he must be a gay BFF or your personal trainer (he looks like Daniel Craig in Bond!). But if you guys keep holding hands, you should know that I’m going to slit his throat. Send me an email when you see this.
Asher Perlman performs with iO, Second City, and Comedysportz. He also writes and performs comedy with ATV and is a winner of the Gimme 5 solo sketch competition at The Playground.