Stuck with a Punk ✔

No. 75.: Daydreaming

I am convinced I am seventeen again. And no, it's not because of my unstoppable libido, eagerness, immatureness, or excellent stamina.

It's just Annabelle and this phone call. There's something strangely intimate to two people just talking over the phone, both doing their own things in the apartment, and it's so innocent.

I don't know, I just get a mental picture of young kids just starting high school, both knowing they like each other, but not one of them daring to take it beyond the simple things. And I've never done that in my life.

Talking about... nothing in particular and about everything. 'Cause we stayed on the phone for at least an hour. It was kind of flirty, kind of not, kind of just goofing around and being dorky, but also not really. It was pretty much a bliss. I guess that is now something I can cross off of my list.

Huh...

Who would've thought that after all of my sexual adventures and after all the lovely women I've met, I'd drool at the thought of a phonecall. I can't even call a doctor without two hours of preparation, and I could barely put the phone down yesterday.

It was bordering the most cheesy scenario possible. The 'You hang up! No, you hang up!' scenario. I can't see it in the movies, it's... It's so unrealistic. You just hang up the damn phone. But I'll confess that yesterday, pressing that button was like bursting my little bubble in which I was happy and safe. I felt almost empty. The apartment suddenly felt empty, even though I had a baby on a mission to climb into my drawers.

I'm not going to lie, I missed her the moment I could not hear her voice over the phone anymore. And more than ever before, I wanted to take my wallet, my keys and Devon, and just drive over to her place. We wouldn't have to do anything... Just talk.

It would be just like the phonecall. She'd tell me which characters from The 100 she hates the most or which ones she loves, or what was her first concert like and how old she was, or even if she ever wanted a tattoo or a piercing and if she had the latter done, why did she remove it. I want to hear about her mundane things.

Maybe I could ruin a movie or two for her by saying that there is no way in hell Marty McFly's flying skateboard could generate its own power out of thin air and easily manage to stay afloat. I was sure she was gonna hang up on me, but when she didn't and tried to laugh it off, I'm sure she grabbed her laptop and downloaded all Back to the Future movies. Just imagine, I get over there and find her watching the movie while still clinging onto the phone. I join her and ruin the rest of the stuff for her, piss her off a little bit, then apologise to her by cuddling next to her.

Okay, perhaps it wouldn't be exactly like the phonecall. But only because we ended up wishing each other a good night - I know damn well I wouldn't just settle for it, I'd want her to give me a good night!

After the call, when I looked over at my couch, I felt absolute disgust. I could not sit down in it even if I wanted to do it with all my being. Simply from far away it looks empty and cold, very uninviting, but when I imagine Annabelle's couch, I feel a sort of longing for its homey atmosphere. Plus, I'd want her there. I kind of doubt the couch is the problem here.

Even Devon wanted to talk to her, and when a kid enthusiastically wants to talk to an adult, you know that they're no ordinary human. It may have all been gibberish, but Annabelle made it an effort to continue the conversation. She kept asking him questions, pretended to be shocked or very happy about his answer, and all of that gave Devon more motivation. I liked that he was enjoying himself, but, in my mind, I could hear Annabelle say that responding like this to babies is important because it helps then develop social and conversational skills.