I was just leaving the open-mike. It was at the Center Street Alley, and as I was cutting through the first-floor balcony, there was a group about my age clustered at the picnic table closest to the door. I was sleep-deprived and stimulated; I was running on fumes and I might have said something obnoxious to them. I think I asked them if they wanted to buy one of my books. I slipped I Need Help: The SkullFuck Collection from my backpack and handed it to one of the girls. She flipped the pages and looked at the art and then asked me: “Are you on drugs?” I told her: “No.” I said: “I’m just crazy.” She said she wanted to buy the book sometime. Asked if there was a way to contact me. We exchanged Facebook information and then I left. A few months went by and out of the blue I got a message from some girl who I had no recollection of ever meeting and she told me who she was. She was the girl I met a few months earlier at the open-mike who had shown interest in buying my book. She said she was having a really bad night and she needed someone to talk to. It was probably 1AM when she messaged me, and I told her she could come over and we could talk. She agreed to meet me at the library and then we went back to my apartment. We sat there and talked but she never told me what was going on, why she was so upset; we kept it innocent and I read her some of my writing and she bought a book and then I suggested we go for a walk and we walked all around town and, as the sun crested the hill and rays of light burst from behind the storefronts and cars began buzzing past us as people went to work, I walked her home. We continued to talk. I put a cigarette out on my wrist to show her that people have different thresholds of pain; mine happens to be higher than most. At her door she hugged me goodbye and I said bye and then left and went home. Late that day she messaged me and told me she read the whole book and I said cool and we made plans to hang out later that night and when we did, we walked all over the place, talking with the energy of a highspeed train, chugging caffeine and whatnot. When the night came to an end, as it usually does, I walked her home. The following day I was feeling rather crummy myself and when she called me on the phone I told her so and she invited me over and I met her little toddler girl and we talked and smoked cigarettes outside her backdoor and she played me David Bowie’s newest music video and I remember he looked so old, for I think he had cancer, and he was still kickin and making music videos even in his cancerous state and it was kind of impressive and inspiring. The following day she met me at the library cuz she was taking her little girl to Walmart and she wanted me to come with her. I met her there and she said her fiancé worked at Walmart and he wanted to meet up with her when he got out of work and she guessed I could come along too. I didn’t know she was engaged. She never told me about it. I wondered did she tell him about me? All those late nights talking and hanging out and I was starting to develop feelings for her and I could sense the feelings were mutual, her leaning on my shoulder as I read her my poetry and me putting my arm around her or letting her wear my jacket when she was cold. She could have at least told me she was engaged. So I went to Walmart with her and her little girl and there I met her fiancé and I was a completely blank asset, didn’t say a single word. I was brewing resentments. They had no chemistry whatsoever. Complete opposites. She was fun and interesting and he was a bore. He wore a collared shirt and khakis and he was such a boring fuckin asshole. I was brooding so hard into the day until I said I had to get going. I went home and called a friend of mine and told him about it and he said he knew her fiancé—what with living in a small town in Vermont—and he was not surprised she was so drawn to me like that since he and I were total opposites in every sense of the word and I was so mad. I texted her and said I didn’t know she was engaged. She insisted she told me. I said she hadn’t. Did she ever tell him about me? Was he just as shocked to meet me as I was to meet him? She immediately changed the subject. Said I was just too conceited to remember a detail such as her being engaged. I told her it was a detail I wouldn’t forget. Then she told me to lose her number. Said she would get over her massive crush on me. “What?” I said. She blocked me. I was so distraught. The fuck just happened. Why are crazy girls so drawn to me? And why the fuck am I so drawn to them?