Can you forgive him for loving every single thing you hate? And should you possibly fall in love with him forever?
Picture this: you’re at the hour and a half mark of your three hour English seminar. The room is weirdly warm, and your vision is starting to blur. The lines of reality are fading, and you’re debating how weird it would be to get a market sandwich as soon as you’re out of here.
Your stupor is broken when you see the guy wearing a single dangly cross earring is half-raising his hand. You remember him telling you how worried he was about accidentally piercing “the gay ear” when you saw him at an NCA last weekend. On the first day of class, you looked over at his computer and saw him watching the Joker stairs scene on mute. In that moment, you decided he was the worst person you’ve ever met. He’s about to talk about Game of Thrones and use the word dichotomy fourteen times in one sentence, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him. It’s like the entire class is stuck on a carnival ride but the music is underscored by his voice repeating “actually” and “not to go too off topic”.
But…what’s this? Oh God. It’s worse, it’s worse. You see his lips form the words “Greta Gerwig,” but it’s not followed by anything scathing. He….he said Little Women reminded him of the joy he felt watching his younger sisters grow up, because sisterhood is such a truly special bond. Jesus Christ. Your stomach turns.
What the hell? Now he’s talking about Taylor Swift’s negotiations with her former label and saying she “deserved better”? Why has he been following this? You’re starting to wonder if you should follow him on Twitter. You find his profile, and his pinned tweet is about….not liking Family Guy? It’s just neutrally close enough to your opinion that you consider asking him to come with you to that Horn show next week. There’s a few weird “world war three” or “coronavirus” tweets, but maybe you can look past that. Maybe you’re not that different after all. Maybe there’s something…special about him?
Somehow, class is over. You pluck up the courage to walk over to him, thinking of asking what he thought about the reading, but then he turns to his friend and says he “can’t wait for another Russ album.” The spell is broken.