She walks towards your direction. In a catwalk fashion. She becomes more visible as she approaches you. Darn, don't come near me. You see those long, slender legs. Gosh, if you are only mine. If you are only mine. You feel like grabbing her to feel her heartbeat next to yours. To smell her fragrant, shiny, silky black her. To see her eye to eye. To touch her lips. To feel her hips with your gentle fingertips. And to say, can you be my girl?

She comes. She's so near to you. You are almost fainting. You're drenching in sweat. Damn, not in a time like this, you exclaim to yourself. You start to open your arms, ready to welcome her to your heart, the love of your life, the apple of your eye, when all of a sudden she passes by your side, glances at you for a while, walks a few more steps behind, then squeaks like a trampled mouse, and finally runs like a bimbotic ostrich as her beefcake ostrich boyfriend appears over the horizon.

*********

I always wonder why people easily give in to such satirical remarks about them being like by someone of the opposite sex.

"Um... really?"

"Yeah!! And she's like head over heels!"

"Well... how'd you know about this?" *blushes*

"Somebody told somebody who told somebody, and that somebody told me like five minutes ago? Jeez man u look like tomato, stop blushing!" *snickers*

"I'm not blushing!"

"Yes you are. Admit it man, you like her too!"

"Well... um.. Why do you think she likes me?"

"Who knows? I couldn't believe it myself! It seems she's gone mad after she failed her physics test."

"Thanks a lot, dude."