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Getting Out

I was more F than A or C, but any way you look at it, I was an AFC. An Average Frustrated Chump. I had a crush on a girl named Renee, who lived on my floor in the dorm.

For weeks I lived in agony, wondering if she liked me. I'd make subtle hints and get back subtle responses which weren't nearly conclusive enough for me to do anything about it.

Things came to a head on Friday night. I had to ask her. Not in person, of course. On AIM.

Let's rule this

On Love, effie

As promised from the previous post, here comes the rules to protect myself from relationships, and guys, and whatever.

1. Trust no one. No exception.

I always think "oh, he's so sweet, he must be the one! He has to be different". Bullshit. If they can be trusted, they'll earn it. Like anyone else. This is the universal rule. (which I always break. Let's try harder this time Effie, huh?)

2. Do not obsess over him.

Oh. My. God. I already hate myself for this one. So, let's suppose I like a guy. What do I do next? I start texting him ten thousand times in a day. That's stupid. It's like a jealous psycho girlfriend, while we're not even dating. And no, we will not even date, like... Ever. Because of this.

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