You know how in the movies, there is a guy and a girl, and at different scenes you get a glimpse into the “Guy’s View” where they all sit around talking about the girls they are dating and you totally love that part because you wonder if guys really do that? Is that really how they feel about this? And that? And then it pans to the “Girls’ View” and when you watch that scene you laugh because you KNOW girls really do that, and if guys paid attention to these scenes in movies they wouldn’t get dumped so much?

It’s like that. Except I’m not privy to that guy scene and I wish I was. Sort of.

I told this guy that I’ve been spending so much time with that I wanted to keep this thing we have going under wraps. I never even asked him if he minded. I never asked him what this thing was, and then I acted like I didn’t care if he even had an opinion on the subject at all. And if that wasn’t enough to make me that girl, the one all men talk about to the next girl, the one who confused and complicated their understanding of all women, then the fact that I divulge his identity to another person every day is certainly enough to make him crazy.

If he could watch my scene, he would be listening to me telling my mom and my friends and my cousins about how great I think he is and how I don’t know what it is that we’re doing, but I’m having fun. He might even see me playing different scenarios around in my mind to see if he would fit into my life at various stages, like that pair of jeans that goes with everything and manages to fluctuate with my weight. I try him on all the time and I wonder how he would feel about that if he knew.

Of course, I am writing this like the world revolves around me, because, well, doesn’t it? But the truth is, he could quite possibly be doing the exact same thing. I don’t know if his friends know that he has spent the last two weeks with me…or that I saw him in his crazy one-piece pajamas that remind me of an infant’s onesie…I might be a mystery to them. And if I’m not, well, I’d never know and then I wouldn’t be tempted to ask the annoying questions every girl wants to ask but doesn’t. What does this mean? What are we? Where is this going? And this is totally my preference because I hate these questions more than I hate the way sand feels in my underwear after a day at the beach. Besides, I don’t want to know, really.

I just want to watch the movie.

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