I think we danced to Fall Out Boy at our junior prom.
It was one of those awkward early internet teenage relationships.
I made you mixed CDs. we would call each other, and then just sit on the phone for hours saying nothing. Just breathing. I still remember your A.I.M. handle.
I knew we were over when you rotated me from your Top Eight. You broke up with me via note, delivered by a mutual friend during my creative writing class. We didn’t talk for a while.
You showed me more affection when you were dating someone else than you did when we were dating. We flirted for months. We never kissed. I’m ok with that. And I am not ok with that.