I Can't Get Over You

It's official. Jessica Darling is bumming me out. What started out as a charming and unique look into the internal psyche of an atypical teenage girl has turned into a very depressing foray into the internal psyche of a slightly depressing woman. I don't know how much more I can take of it (I am reading Fourth Comings, the fourth (get it?) book in the Jessica Darling series). What's perhaps worse is the constant back and forth with her and Flutie Tutie. I wish, I wish, I wish Megan McCafferty had left it at, say, book three and ended with them blissfully in love and still in college.

Now, Jessica has graduated college. I don't like thinking too far into the future (like, the idea of being a working gal and not having the structure of tertiary education to guide me is frankly terrifying) so reading about Jessica and her confusion about her future is like reflecting on my own doubts and questions. Ain't nobody got time or wants to do that.

I had to stop halfway through reading Fourth Comings last night to start reading Lola and The Boy Next Door. And yes, Lola and The Boy Next Door is just as good as the name suggests. Yes, it involves a boy next door and yes, the boy is the love interest. Excuse me? What's that? Yes, freaking awesome storyline. Do you want to know what else? They were childhood friends and then he moved back into town.

WHAT'S THAT? Fucking awesome.

It occurred to me the other day that it would be a lot easier if someone rich and famous came to town and we ultimately got married and I lived off his riches until the day I died. He bumps into me whilst I'm strolling through the city, being all wistful and special. In this alternate universe, I'm comfortable enough to go on solo outings, just me and my cup of coffee (because I drink coffee in this alternate universe because I'm very mature and have matured tastes for such exotic delicacies), my thoughts and these boots made for walking.

There I am. Strolling, just strolling. Gazing longingly into the distance, thinking, "Damn, I can't wait to see what's out there." I also have a slightly British accent. I'm very distracted by gazing longingly into the distance and accidentally bump into Rich and Famous Guy.

Who is Rich and Famous Guy, you ask? I'm not sure. I just know he's Rich and Famous but he's also very intelligent, funny, kind, personable and has nice biceps and triceps. I know this because, when I "accidentally" bump into him, I grab hold of his highly toned arm to steady myself.

"I'm so sorry!" I gasp, all feminine and wiley.
"It's okay!" he says. He's momentarily distracted by the impact but then we make eye contact. Sparks fly. He's very taken by my very delicate and ladylike physique (har) and kindhearted eyes (HAR!). "I'm Rich and Famous," he continues.
"Hi, Rich," I say, suddenly shy but in a charming way. "I'm J."
"Why don't I take you out for a coffee? To say sorry for bumping into you," he says. Oh, his voice is smooth like red velvet cake (I don't even like red velvet cake).
"But I bumped into you!" I say. This is when he purposefully and comically nudges/bumps me. Gently because I'm a woman and therefore of great fragility. Handle with care.

I laugh. He is Funny with nice biceps and triceps (I know because I slap him on his arm with laughter as I chortle at his mild mannered joke).
"Okay," I say. "Let's go for coffee."

We have coffee then fuck (sorry). Then we get married and I never have to finish uni or work ever again. I just be feminine and wiley and of slim physique and slim waist and waste. It's great.

J