None Shall Pass

Walks up, smile creeping into a smirk, all confidence and swagger, doesn't say hello or introduce himself or ask my name, just delivers the line like it's a shibboleth of the players' club, a magic word that opens me up like a secret corridor to a pharaonic queen's chamber of otherworldly treasures.

I let him buy me a drink, but every word that passes between my lips is a subtle hint of disinterest, designed so that he will hate himself later for not getting the hint more than for clarity in the moment.

I have fucked so many guys meeting his exact specifications; he will never know how many, or why I was not disposed to add to the total, or what he missed thereby.

A girl in the bathroom gave me this lipstick, mine having been lost in the cab or on the dance floor or left on a table somewhere in this club or another, saying, "Here, use mine, it's called Standards. You put this on those lips, and you don't kiss any frogs, you don't blow anybody in the parking garage out of pity or boredom, you don't settle for anything less than Prince motherfucking Charming, baby."


  1. I loved this post, may have to refer others to it. It's brilliant!

  2. Just like the lost Cindrella's sandal which led to her Prince Charming? :)
    Interesting blog. :)

  3. she knows all tricks of the trade, beautifully written

    My take The Red Lipstick

  4. Loved the name of the lipstick, Standards. Well done.

  5. Amazing David... loved it to bits...
    Do make time to read mine :-) Cheers, Archana

  6. Your words flow so well to set the tone. They roll beautifully through to that final line. Awesome!!!