Losing Lori

If I was someone else and I saw you, I would think you were the type of girl to love tight clothes and long necklines. The thing is, I'd be wrong. Your face did enough for you. Less is more, you'd always say. You were right. Crazy, huh? How seeing someone's face makes you want to see what the rest of them looks like?

I guess this is why you never wore anything revealing unless you were headed out to party - which, yeah, was a majority of the time, but still - and always kept a fresh pile of straight legged jeans and sweaters at my place. I adored that about you, Lori. I really did.

I respect the fact that you didn't dress like a whore. It always made me want you more than I would have if I'd seen it all, straight from the bat. It's a good thing you were like that, Lori. Good and bad. Good, because I fell in love. Bad...well, for the same reason. I fell in love and couldn't get out of the hole you'd dug for me.

You had about a million and one pairs of leggings or leg warmers, and for some reason, mittens too. I saw you wear mittens about three times in the four years we were together, but you had a lot of them. Weird, the way girls work. You wore them inside, too.

Sometimes you'd wear make up, sometimes you wouldn't. I didn't care what you did with your face. You were always beautiful. Most guys would have said to go without, but because I loved you and I understood the fact that you didn't doll up just to please me, I didn't care.

I don't know why I wasn't enough for you, Lori.

Honest to God, I don't.