Dear Mr. Something,
Hi. Me Again.
I’d just like to reiterate a few things.
You are damn charming and I find that I have a very hard time saying no to you. Yet at the same time, I know that I probably should.
I know exactly how much trouble you are.
You are not the boyfriend type. I got that without asking. And trust me, I can say with near certainty that I am not the girlfriend type either, so don’t worry. That’s not where this is going. But there’s just something about you, kid.
You don’t give me butterflies. You give me heartburn.
Hearing from you and being with you is like an intense adrenaline rush, since it only happens every so often. It puts my senses into hyperdrive. How I see it, it’s like the build up of an insane beat drop. The anticipation is there. You’re waiting for it. You’re anxious for it. You want it to happen. Then it happens and you’re still surprised at how crazy it is.
Whether your drunk *ss calls me to discuss a need for litigation over a contract that doesn’t exist, or we’re having a pick-up line war and arguing over who’s funnier, or playing two truths and a lie and realizing how poor you are at following the rules, you just seem to be one of those people that fell right into place as a good friend, who I consequently also enjoy kissing. So, excellent work Jeeves.
I look forward to not hearing from you for a stupid amount of time and then still agreeing to go out with you when you finally do call, because let’s face it, you’re fun as hell.
See you in 3-12 weeks. Maybe.