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Because that's the part that really sucks, you know it does.  Who's the first to call.  He should call you if he really likes you.  But you should call him if you're intent on proving you don't care.  Aren't we beyond such childish stuff?  Call when you wanna talk.  What's the big deal?  Nope, no big deal.  Call when you wanna talk.  No problem.

And so when he doesn't call, it's no big deal.  You could call him.  Oh I could.  But I've called him the last three times and though he always seems happy to talk and happy to go do whatever it is I called him about, that still does not change the fact that I had to call him first.

So I have to test him.  Of course I have to.  All girls do this, they just don't tell you.  You gonna call yet?  'Cause I'm not going to. 

I didn't call him Thursday, I didn't call him Friday, and here it is on Saturday, and what have I proved to myself?  He doesn't like you.  No, let's not jump to conclusions.  If he liked you, he'd call.  Let's ATTEMPT to be rational.  

 

He could be busy.  He could be busy with someone else.  He could've called to tell you what he was busy with.  If he hasn't called, it's because he's busy with a whom, not a what. 

Grrrrrrrrrrr.

Ashley calls to try and get me to go karaoking with her, but I've managed to suck down four Sam Adams, and I can't drive, much less sing on key. Ashley instantly demands to know why I'm drinking without her, and I tell her how my miserable test is completely backfiring and I feel like a dumbass. 

"No dumbasses allowed," Ashley says and comes up with the brilliant idea to oh, just drive past his house to see if, you know, he's home or not.

It sounded like a good idea.  It sounded like a great idea.  You have to believe me.  These ideas sound great when peering through a haze of Sam Adams.