Sara: I'm just going to ask him if he likes me.
Friends: No.
S: No? Why?
F: It will scare him off.
S: Really? Wow. He's really going to need to grow a backbone before we embark on our life of crime.
F:...What?
In my experience, even frankness is too subtle for some people.
S: Did you send me a text asking if I liked fire?
Alex: Yeah. I have a fire-pit in my backyard, and I wanted to invite you over to make S'mores.
S: OH. I didn't respond to it because I thought you were criminally-minded. You can invite me some other time. I love S'mores. And I also have a crush on you. Good combo!
*two weeks later*
S: Are you ever going to ask me out?
A: Wait, what? You'd go out with me?
S:...I sort of thought that was obvious after telling you I liked you.
A: I thought you were joking!
At this point in my long, wisdomous life, passive aggressiveness is my least favorite thing. You can imagine that I was somewhat stunned to find myself engaged in a long, drawn-out, passive aggressive war, then. The concealed, subtly expressed hatred my nemesis and I have for each other was discovered the first day we met in math class. He was sitting a few rows to my left. I was chatting quietly with Casey. Our ears perked up when he started discussing our college, and said, "I haven't met a girl who goes there who's actually intelligent."
Sara: *glares*
Opponent: *feels it*
S: *keeps glaring*
O: *ignores it*
S: You realize girls from the college are in this class.
O: It occurs to me, yes.
S: Well, then.
O: Well.
And thus our romance began. Things got more heated when he transferred into one of my English classes. Aside from one full-blown argument in which neither of us looked at each other while we insulted each other from across the classroom, we've generally pretended the other doesn't exist. Actually, we had one impromptu staring contest. But other than that, nothing. Until today.
Today our English teacher was gone, but had left a video for us to watch. Since he informed us in advance that he wouldn't be there and that there wouldn't be a sign-in sheet, there was an astounding turn-out of three. I was the first one there. My arch-nemesis, looking especially size zero today in his skinny jeans and oversized shirt, walked through the door next. When he saw I was the only other one there, he was so overcome with joy, he hardly knew how to express it.
O: Are you fucking kidding me?
S: Yes. This is all a joke.
O: No one else is going to show up, are they?
S: Aside from the girl who's supposed to bring the video, no.
We eyed each other, and then he took our You Aren't Even Here Right Now policy to new heights.
O: Are you in my math class?
S: I don't know. What math are you in?
O: Ninety.
S: Oh. Yeah. You sit in front of me, don't you?
O: I don't know.
S: Hm.
After a few moments, I heard him mutter something.
S: Are you speaking?
O: Yes.
S: Oh. I couldn't quite tell.
O: I said, "Nice to meet you." *sticks out hand*
S: *eyes warily*
O: I have no idea what your name is.
S: *shakes hand* It's Sara.
O: Great.
We didn't say anything else to each other, and we ignored each other on the way out of the room.
But is it just me, or did I just totally win whatever argument we were having?
This is a very familiar narrative. In a few pages Nora Roberts is going to put 30 pounds on him, buy him some new genes, make him a heterosexual and then then Romance will begin...
ReplyDeleteIn retrospect, 10 hours later, that should've said "jeans." But there is a biological component to being abrasive. I'm at least 3% sure. So we'll pretend I was being all sciencey.
ReplyDeleteI just want to point out two things:
ReplyDelete1. A proper romance hero is at least six feet tall and about two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Adding 30 piddling pounds on a 90-lb weakling does not a romance hero make.
2. Heroes always wear "butter-soft" old jeans that have gone white at the stress points. No one loves a man who just got new pants. I promise.
In other news, he WOULD have to be heterosexual
-Victoria
Why would he have to be a heterosexual? Glad you're stuck in the mindset of Elizabethan literature (you thought I was going to say Victorian, but I have outwitted you), clearly you've contracted Avian Flu.
ReplyDeleteAn "Oh Snap" would be appropriate here, for it is on like Donkey Kong.
I was agreeing with you! You said he'd have to be heterosexual, and I agreed, and now you're accusing me of being ... Elizabethan. Did you READ Twelfth Night, the one where homoerotic subtext rapidly developed into text? You should have stuck to being predictable.
ReplyDeleteI'm sure if you ask Sara very nicely, she'll define "genre conventions" for you.
But don't fret, darling. Someday, you too will develop a full understanding of romance heroes and be able to identify and ensnare one of your very own. Until then, try not to match up my biffles with inferior species.
xxx
PEACE MY CHILDREN. share hugs, not sarcasm.
ReplyDeletelet's share one big virtual ice cream sundae.
also, if we were actually fighting, i would win. BIG TIME. just give me a finish line, and you won't even know what hit you (i.e. me).
1. BUT HE STARTED IT, MOMMY
ReplyDelete2. We would totally know what hit us, because you just told us, MOMMY.
3. Would someone like to write my paper?
Casey: I bet you didn't imagine you could have illegitimate children so quickly, did you? If this does turn into an actual fight, and there is a betting pool, my money is on you. No offense, guys.
ReplyDeleteEddie: I am huge fan of this insult. Elizabethan. I dearly hope I can use it in class before the year ends. Preferably on my Opponent. I'm envisioning a big, dramatic speech. At the end, I call him "positively Elizabethan," slap him, and storm out.
Victoria: Hello, cupcake! Since I made this blog post, you have become an illegitimate child, and also vaguely threatening. Don't threaten people online, dearest. You're only leaving evidence.
Sara, you were right. I'm clearly out of my league here. Victoria, you win.
ReplyDeleteCasey, you're not the boss of me! And let's not be silly, I have cunning and guile on my side and would totally kick your hiney.