He was dating someone else, and I was just chasing him for the thrill. But three months and dozens of drunk dials later, I was forced to accept I was a little more attached than I thought. One night, when he came to pick me up from the bar, there was a moment when he looked across at me with this stupid, sentimental worried look on his face, and I thought, “Crap, I love this fucker.”
Postscript: He’s still dating a boy who looks like the Gerber baby, and I’m still pining.
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