Date Three

The greeting hug lasts a second too long.  We're going
to the art museum downtown and I'm stressed
about not having cool music to play.  I've literally
had this problem since last year and I've explained
how I only have a CD player.  The only CDs I have are
a few Kanye mixes (they are hopelessly scratched)
and a "Best of 1967" mix
from my grandmother's stash.

We listen to "Everyone Knows It's Windy."  The whole thing.

I pay for parking and decide to let her pay for her museum ticket
because fuck yeah, gender equality.  We get in an elevator together
and I think about my first kiss with my ex
in a fucking elevator
but I don't touch this bitch
because I'm not attracted to her.

Art is boring so I pretend
to be an art snob and critique every piece,
which she finds hilarious.
Her laugh is ugly, too.

There is a vacuum cleaner on a pearly white stand.
I look at it for about a minute without saying a word.

She grabs my arms a couple times
but I'm not feeling the whole kino thing
and we watch this weird artsy video in a dark room
and I think about holding her hand for the 14th time
but I don't.

We leave the museum and we go to Chick-Fil-A.
I can't enjoy food with people like her.
I drop her off and give her a goodbye hug,
and pat her shoulder with a genuine smile.
No kiss for you, bitch.

She gives me the most disgusted look I've ever seen someone give me.
I'm smirking.