She’s the self-proclaimed eye candy. Rubenesque. She pumps iron.  As hard as I can pump you. She reaches for weights in tight shorts, waiting for a poke, for a tap. For those hands to tease me the way I want them to.

She drives home from the gym, sweaty in white shirt, hair on pony tail.

Nobody got it. She didn’t get any.

She takes it out on the younger ones at work the next day. Because I never got it from him. Because he never got me.