On the Dancefloor

I've seen him a couple of times since that night. He hasn't seen me though. I know if he spotted me he’d want to talk. It was talking to him that made me fall in love, and I don't want to do that again. Not with him, not with anyone. I've decided I don’t need the hastle. Sure guys are fun. Once in a while, when you've got that desire that only one can fill. But I don’t need the baggage of a relationship. I don’t talk about him anymore either. Neither do my friends. He’s mentioned once in a while, but only as ‘the dick who only ever called when he was high.’ I didn't mind that night so much though, because one thing was for sure. I looked fine as all hell on that dancefloor.