I just realized: you've got the same name as that old romantic movie.
Last night, I had dinner at McDonald's. I wanted to get you one of those teddy bears, like the ones on TV, I dunno, I guess for a post-Valentine's gift? Then when I got there, I saw that they looked terrible. I should have had dinner at Jollibee instead.
That thing you keep bringing up, the one you mention, like, every other sentence, you know what I think? I think it doesn't matter. At least not anymore. Or at least not to me. I wish that counted for something.
I think everyone thinks we'd be great together. I kinda do too. I think we already are. Or were. It's kind of weird now, isn't it? But then I don't think you think that, and oddly enough, that's the only thing that matters, doesn't it? Doesn't do me any good now, does it? People think too much. I think too much.
The other night, I was out with this girl, and all evening all I did was talk to her about you.
When she saw you, she said you didn't look like you'd be my type.
She was right.
Now that I think about it, all those other girls, none of them ever made me feel as miserable as you do.
Remember *that* night? I could have sat there forever listening to you being silent.
When someone asks you to choose which you like between, I dunno, 'Singles' or 'Reality Bites', or 'Sixteen Candles' or 'Pretty in Pink', or I guess any two films with similar themes and cult following, I think it's not so much about your answer as much as it is about having that conversation in the first place.
That said, I can't believed you like *that* movie as much as you told me you did. Really?
Ok, I probably didn't dislike it as much as I made it out to be. I think I did it just to annoy you. I mean, you were just so sure I was going to like it.
It breaks my heart that I could never be completely honest with you.