At the beginning of this year, I met a guy that I thought I was interested in. In retrospect, I think it was only because he was a nice guy and he was a breakdancer. I have a history of… looking for the “type” that I had just been with. After Big D, I would only check out tall, blond guys. Who majored in the sciences. And had a thinkpad laptop.
So, G, this new kid (Yes, kid, because he’s a sophomore) is now dating C, the girl down the hall from me. I don’t particularly like him anymore, and I can say that I’m pretty good friends with C. But everytime I see him in his PJs in our hall, a small part of me wishes I was still back with Bboy A. Because I’d like to see a bboy in PJs in my room once in a while too, y’know. I find it hard to be happy for them, even though I think that they’re a really cute couple. It’s as if their happiness takes away from mine, as if there was a set amount of “happiness” in this world and that I’ve just been robbed of my share.
I’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about getting back together with Bboy A… and it’s been somehow soothing to think of that every so often and “know” that we’ll date again. I’ve also been thinking a lot, lately, about getting back in touch with him. I wonder how I’ll do it. Perhaps with stark honesty?
I miss you like a bboy mises the beat.
Or a brave demeanor?
Hey, how’re you doing? Things have been busy for me, but good.
Or the tried-and-true humour?
Yo, you never called me back like you said you would! Anyhoo…
Thinking about when we’ll finally talk again has given me something to think about other than just him, in a roundabout away. So if there really is a finite amount of happiness, then he must be ecstatic right about now.