The Story of the J-Boy, Abridged Version
Once upon a time (two years ago) there was a guy and there was a girl and they fell in and out of love (probably) over the course of a terribly wonderful and wonderfully terrible year.
The relationship as summarized in a series of texts:
“I wouldn’t care so much if he didn’t stare so much,” she laments to her best friend, via text.
“What does it mean if you and someone both look at the clock up on the wall behind you at the same time and somehow accidentally make eye contact on the way up and down?” That’s the funny thing about accidents. You never know you’re having one until you’re having one.
“Congrats. You made a move:) Like you moved seats.” Congratulations from your best friend are certainly in order when you do something brave.
“If he hates you, I’ll punch him, which will make things more awkward but also more clear.” Ahhhh, loyal friends are the best.
“Do you think he hates me? Maybe I should get the upper hand by punching him sooner rather than later?”
“I don’t know. Ask him?”
“Punch first, ask questions later?”
“You need to take a pic. Surreptitiously and send it. Then you can be a certified stalker.” Curious friends, wise advice.
“I should just text him and tell him I have a problem.”
“Don’t do that. Tell him he has problems.” Annoyed friends, wiser advice.
“We can try not to be that rude. As in, we’ll make a less offensive plan, and execute it offensively.” Scheming is now officially in progress.
The entire story of the J-boy (s) is an essay that is in progress.