I wake up.
Slow.
Early.
Excited.
I go through last night's.
Night.
And textmessages.
I thank Frank for the beer pressure.
But not the beer.
I stretch and get ready for B-ball.
I hope.
And I hope.
To hear from the love of my life today.
But who the hell knows.
It could be good.
It could be a casual conversation.
About how she is dating someone else.
I am, too.
Kinda.
But it's not the same.
Because my someone knows about Dear Jean.
I'm sure no one.
Knows about me.
Even though she said her cousins cursed me.
At the wedding.
All I can do is hope.
Selfishly.
And keep trying.
To convince her that she is indeed the love of my life.