Him

Prologue

Stupid, stupid Ava. Why oh why oh why did I just say that to him? I am a married woman. No, make that a happily married woman. With kids for God's sake! I can't say things like that to another man. This is not like when I was 19 and Corey and I were on one of his "relationship breaks". I am not free to explore other options, or even flirt with the idea of exploring other options! It's not okay and I am not that kind of woman!

Why does he have this effect on me? I have always been in control of my decisions and my actions but with him it's like I morph into putty in his hands. Matter of fact, playdough is probably the more appropriate metaphor in this situation because as I stare in horror at the "opened" snap beside his name on my phone, I'm ignoring the playdough mess that is horrifically decorating the walls of Will and Tanner's bathroom. This has to be the work of Will. Only he would take something as carefree as playdough and turn it into a math lesson. Tanner's Easter basket last week was full of brand new playdough. So perfect and untainted. I know this might be weird, but there's always been something about the look and smell of untouched playdough that has always seemed so inviting to me. It took Tanner, of course, about 3 seconds to mix all of the red with the yellow and the blue; making the perfect playdough look more like a puke-y gray color. I must have taken my eyes off him too long while I was preoccupied with staring at my phone like a giddy school-girl, because Will stuck the playdough all over the bathroom wall in the shape of addition problems. Correctly done, I might add. Not too shabby for a 4 year old. But, I will have to put on my 'strict mom' voice later and act like I'm mad at him for making a mess; though, in actuality, I'm way more impressed than I am mad. 

This gray playdough is the perfect representation of me right now. The way he makes me. I was the perfectly bright, perfectly clean, red playdough until he came along and mixed me up turning me into this gray, lint-and-dog-hair-filled playdough. I'm helpless, free for him to mold and shape however he sees fit. I have no control. Yet, for once in my life, I couldn't care less.