Can't explain it.

Oh all right. Maybe I can explain it.

She fits nicely in my arms. When Kelly is in my arms, my hands clasp above her hips in a way that I like. I'm only 5'9" (okay, 5'8" and 3/4) but she makes me feel tall. She is curvy and I like the way she looks naked. And I like the way she feels, naked.

She's honestly not that bad. She goes on and on and I have no idea who she is talking about. Suri? Shiloh? Nicole Richie? Kelly, what are you talking about? But she is loyal like hell. When Michael tries to steer me into his office, she'll rescue me if I text her. She'll bring me Doritos during the day and ice cream sandwiches, the ones with cookies. She's fattening me up, I know it. Kelly is my mother and my lover all in one. Kind of disturbing, but I tell you what, no one else wants to listen to me talk about business school except Kelly. She listens. All she wants is for me to open up to her. So I do.  

And Kelly is naughty and I like that. She plays dumb so much of the time I forget how smart she can be. At night she'll pretend to be scared of the dark so she can wrap her legs around mine. I pretend I could save her if someone tried to break in, and then we have amazing sex all night that is absolutely not pretend. The next morning I ignore her singing in the shower and the forty-five minutes it takes for her to get ready and I drive us to work.

Her parents hate me because I sleep with her but won't marry her. Her sisters think I'm a loser. But Kelly doesn't care. She just has eyes for me. Why, I don't know. My blue eyes maybe? Kelly loves them, can't get enough of them. If I check out another girl for too long or am late for a date, I just hold Kelly and make baby eyes at her and she melts. She goes from livid to horny in the shortest amount of time I have ever seen. All cuz of these eyes of mine. Hey, I'm not being arrogant, I'm just being honest.

I can explain it. Kelly is a good girl. She's soft and little and I am used to her now. I know the tricks to keep me sane and her satisfied with my lack of commitment. I don't know what I'd do if she broke up with me, but I'll cross that bridge if I ever come to it, which I probably won't.