Am I Going to Hell?

Last weekend I went to the funeral of very dear family friend. She was a woman I mourned deeply and still do. This somehow didn’t stop me from checking out guys during this solemn affair.

He was cute.

He was sensitive.

And I was looking so fine in my black dress.

I sneakily stared him the entire day. I tried as best to relay my condolences while still looking pretty.  My sister (who knows me far better than anyone ever should), glared and muttered “For God sakes this is a freaking funeral.”

No, I didn’t throw pickup lines at him. No, I didn’t rub my chest against his when he hugged. Even I have standards. See, I’m not the devil’s child.

But that didn’t stop me from having a crush.

On the son.

Of the woman we were mourning.

I have reached a new level of desperation.

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