I know I like a man when I can be myself around him. When I can eat a lot in front of him, and remain unconcerned as I take another bite of that delicious meal. When I can laugh so hard that my gums are showing and I seem to make no more noise. When I wake him up at 5:30 in the morning in just a t-shirt and boxers, and I do not care about how I look — that’s when I knew I liked you.
I like your face, too. And your competence. You rarely give compliments, so I know you’re sincere about it when you do give one. You praised me once or twice, and I was giddy for days. But that’s about it.
I shouldn’t like you because I am fully aware that I have no chance. My thighs jiggle often and my hair’s dull. I’m unlike…
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