I like you. I suppose I should get over it, considering the fact that you live outside the United States, and that I only met you briefly on my many lifelong travels across the globe. Also, I’ve probably talked to you face-to-face twice in my entire life, and on the rare occasions that I do get to see you I also get to watch you hit on my friend Rachael the entire time…which is really about as fun as repeatedly hitting myself in the hand with a hammer.
I have always thought you were incredibly good looking, and intelligent and cool…and I am probably simply projecting my ideal of the perfect man on you…but I’ve had ample time to reflect…and no, you really are the coolest guy I’ve ever met.
And I’m sure your girlfriend Tina thinks so too…except you left the country, and left Tina and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to date you anymore. And Rachael probably wants to date you…but…hey…I’m awesome too.
So, it seems to me that the problem is that A: I find you incredibly attractive on all levels, B: you live incredibly far away, and C: you are only marginally aware that I exist.
If you could please remedy at least one of these conditions, that would be great.
Also, with regards to you I am reduced to the mental capacity of a twelve-year-old, which just isn’t very dignified. I get all excited when you comment on my posts on facebook…heck, even if you just like them…which shows that I value your opinion, to an almost unhealthy level.
And, I don’t know if you’ve gotten the memo, but I do not believe in pointless, impossible crushes, and irrational romantic attachment…and you are proving to be the ruination of that entire self-concept.
And yes, sometimes I get mad that, during my travels, I dated Claus ( whose name really is that pretentious), who ,while wealthy and good-looking with a Kiwi accent, was practically illiterate, when I could have been dating you…if you’d have thought of it….which you probably wouldn’t have.
And sometimes, when I think of you, I regret the initiation of operation “Marriage-will-never-be-beneficial-to-me-in-any-way-so-I-can- eat and wear-whatever-I-want”, even though pretty much every other guy I’ve dated simply reinforces the benefit of said operation.
I want you to think I am smart and pretty. *Sigh*
I’ve had other thoughts…but I’ve forgotten them. I’ll just add them later .
You invite me over for discussion groups, but you just sit there and don’t say a word…which leaves me alone to be slowly eaten to death by our mutual friend, Jason the Existentialist, who is so wound up in relativism that I fail to see the benefit of including him in the discussion group at all…since his main argument is always that there is NO right or wrong, and that justice can’t be quantified.
I wonder how he would feel if I stole his wallet?
Anyway, so I find you really good looking, and on paper your ideas are sound and pretty cool, and I like you…
But you never speak up in groups when I am there.
Also, when you asked for my number and invited me over to listen to music at your house three times, I thought you weren’t being serious, but now I sit around at night wondering what the heck I was thinking.
I really really really liked you man. Why’d you have to go all anti-feminist crazy all of a sudden?
I mean, when you finally asked me out I ran up and down my empty apartment, jumping and screaming “Woo Hoo!”. I may or may not have actually jumped on the bed. I can neither confirm nor deny. And I’ve had a crush on you since I was a sophomore.
And then, there was that weird moment after our first big argument when you shot up from the couch, and gave me a big hug, and I was so startled that I swung my big purse between us and went rigid. And after that you looked kind of hurt and sat down and we haven’t had a frank conversation since.
And now I sit around wondering if you were already not talking to me, and it was a pity hug…or if it was my reaction to the hug that sparked this bizarre silence.
And then you showed up at my “Nobody Knows” party and you were acting all sexy and rational again. Punk. Stop messing with my mind.
But I guess when you told our mutual friend Daniel that the reason we weren’t dating anymore was because you doubted my religious devotion, that kind of sealed the deal. I can now remove all the mind-boggling mystery of it from my brain.
But I can honestly say that I was more consistently happy in my relationship with you than with any other relationship I’ve ever had.
But I won’t bring it up, if you won’t bring it up.
Even though I still stand by the fact that your name is a girl’s name that reminds of Christmas ( even though you were born in July), no matter how you pronounce it ( Like “Karl” or “K-rell”…whatever), I would like to publicly thank you for being a good-looking gymnast, inviting me on all these dates to dinners, and movies and parties, and making that pie. Also, your behavior has been so fabulously non-chauvinist, and your opinions so fabulously well-informed that I’ve actually really enjoyed hanging out with you. So thanks.