Sunday, April 4, 2010

Not Like Those Other Girls.

"I'm not like those other girls" she says to him with a smile. "Those who depend entirely on their boyfriends." she continued. How should he respond? "That's cool, because I don't like you at all. You aren't special to me."? The moment passed, slowly but surely, and they continued to shop. Well, she continued to shop; he continued to look at her hair, her hands, or hang on to any and every syllable she spoke.

"People are going to think you're my boyfriend." she says, in that cute, manipulative way girls can speak.
"Oh, Sorry." he says in that awkward, uncomfortable way that boys can speak.
"Don't be sorry, I don't mind." she said, smiling and then turning into the dressing room to try on that stupid yellow shirt.

She looked silly in it, but he'd never say that. He complimented her any chance he got and this was one of those chances. She knew she looked silly, but due to his wonderful comment that neither will remember in a week, she dropped 22 dollars on that stupid yellow shirt. That's the closest thing to love they ever felt towards each other. Today, that shirt is laying in the floor of her closet, folded up in the corner behind her first easy bake oven, waiting to be called on. It'll never happen.

She was a terrible driver and on their way home they got lost and ran a few red lights. They eventually did make it home, and she went into the bathroom to "fix her make-up". What she really did was cry at how she felt about this silly little boy. All of her life morals were changed. She wanted to depend on this silly little boy, and make all of her problems their problems. Meanwhile, he waited awkwardly in the den of her house, making small talk with her sister.

He thought she was into him. Being the stupid, classic male that he is, he texted his friend all about it. Well, he didn't tell him about how he truly felt; that he really liked her and pretty much just wanted to hold her hand. No, instead he sent a simple text message: "Dude, She totally wants it."

Later in the car, she played something cute and quirky like Belle & Sebastian. She checks her phone and says aloud: "I have a new message from you.....'dude, she totally wants it.'....Was that meant for someone else?" Somehow, he talked his way out of it or at least to the point where she didn't care. What happened was, in his anxiousness and adrenaline, lost in the small talk- he sent the message to the last person in his inbox- thinking it was his bud. It obviously wasn't.

At the end of the day when she dropped him off at home, they both got a goodnight kiss from each other.

They never talked again.

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