I like you.

Three words. Impossible to say.

Why is it so hard to tell someone how you feel when it’s personal? I have no trouble telling someone to fuck off if I think they’re an asshole. I also have no trouble telling my favorite waiter that I want to marry him when he knows my order without my having to say it. But to tell a friend that I’ve been spending a lot of time with that I actually like him… like, LIKE like him.


I’d rather sit in the emotional purgatory of confusion, trying to read minds instead of just asking if he feels the same way. Makes perfect sense.

For example, when he says “You’re from the valley and I am not” when I say I want to make out with him, is he referencing Judd Nelson and Molly Ringwald in Breakfast Club (yay!), or Tai and Elton in Clueless (boo!). Either way, I will continue to wonder if that lingering look means he’s pondering the awesomeness of our compatibility or wishing I’d notice the booger hanging from my schnoz (awkward!).


For the record, I like you. In fact, I adore you. You are unlike anyone else I know, and that is intriguing. Plus, you look hot in jorts.


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