When I was in 6th grade there was a boy who made me cry. I hated him. He teased me mercilessly and one day he said, “Hey Rosie, want me to pop that zit on your neck?” and I was all, “Wha???” And then he reached over and squeezed my head until I nearly cried. But I didn’t cry because that’s not how I roll. I just really hated him with all the fire I could manage and wished like hell I was The Firestarter so I could go all Drew Barrymore on him.
Today Jack and I were hanging out as we do and I asked him if he’d ever been punched. “Yeah,” he said slowly. I like when he says things slowly (unless he’s being a dick. Then he’s just being patronizing.). “When I was 12.” He told me the story of how when he was at scout camp some boy sucker punched him. I was all, “What did you dooo??!!!” and he was all. “I punched him back.” And I was all, “THAT IS SO SEXY.” He agreed it was very manly of him. “What did you do then?” I asked. “Did you proceed to kick his ass?!” And he was all, “Nah. I held him in a nuggie hold until he calmed down. God, I hated that kid.”
Turns out? That kid? THE SAME KID I HATED – AT THE SAME TIME.
Jack and I are so perfect together.