Wednesday, September 29, 2010

He finally got a Facebook and now we're exchanging messages on what it means to be a politician and reminiscing on his old nicknames for me.

~3 years ago, we saw each other at our friend's annual Christmas party
slash yearly high school reunion for our group of friends during winter break of sophomore year. He stared when I walked in. I smiled. He came over when he saw I had a moment free (my friends are very chatty). We talked over several glasses of boxed wine and stood next to each other during flip cup. A bunch of us decided to go to the bar and we danced. He said he liked me all this time. And he looked into my eyes and I thought he was going to kiss me. And I wanted him to. But he didn't. And I was disappointed.

We didn't keep in touch.

We decided to go to our traditional senior year breakfast together
held at our elementary school. We decided I would drive so he could fawn over my amazing manual driving skills. And I somehow, not intentionally, forgot we came together and left without him.

One day in Economics class, he turned to me and said, "You know, I almost asked you to prom." I looked at him in my awkward way and said, "OK." I know I already had a date. But in that moment, I wished I wasn't going with he who would cause me years of heartache and then some. He instead took an old friend that chose to be home schooled and therefore wouldn't have a prom to go to. Which was so sweet.

Never were we the best of friends. But we always laughed together at
our ignorant teenage counterparts and exchanged ideas on which special power we would like to possess if we were allowed one.

In high school, he was the really smart intelligent kid that would
choose dank above most things. Which I've learned is my "type" of guy. But never thought of him that way.

Then he became the kid that called me "Phamine" in junior high. We are
all awkward in junior high so I'm just not gonna say anything else.

He was just a kid in my elementary class. No adjectives. Nondescript.
Not in a bad way.

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