Still not into you

Dear you,

Yes you, I've written about you before.

Let me be honest. I believe that people who do not bring extra pens into exams are idiots. As we all know, if your pen is capable of running out, jamming or exploding, it's at least ten times more likely to do each of these things when you're in an exam.

The easiest way to prevent the inevitable pain and anguish this causes is to bring an extra pen into your exam. Therefore, people who do not do this are idiots.

That being said, you did not bring an extra pen with you. A=B, B=C, &there4 C=?

Now, it has already been established that I don't particularly like you, what with you following me to and from school, to the washroom at school and boring me to death with whatever it is that you talk incessantly about. I find your nervousness and vulnerability a big turnoff and the fact that you are unable to use the word "penis" in a sentence without stuttering and looking embarassed, especially when you brought it up in the first place does not help your case.

Not to mention, I find the fact that in conversation your eyes never once leave my chest kind of irritating. Yes, granted, you are male and granted, checking out breasts is what males do, but the majority of men in this world seem to be capable of looking elsewhere as well, places like say, my face, for a reasonable amount of time. I'm a 32B for Christ's sake. There's not a hell of a lot to look at there.

You had taken a seat right next to me and upon realizing that C=A you are an idiot, you asked me if I could spare a pen. I couldn't, and that's the honest truth.

Glory! Praise be! Halelujah! There just happened to be a pen on the floor between us. Problem solved.

The story gets complicated now, because in walks the Other Man, and where does he sit? In the empty seat right between us, of course. Perfect.

Almost instantly you slump in your chair and begin to look agitated. Perhaps I'm evil for doing this, but I find it funny how quickly you appeared to become pissed off.

The exams and booklets get handed out. All over the lecture hall people are handing them down the rows with friendliness, politeness, whatever. You hand each to the Other Man in a rude, offhand flick that says "my mom won't let me have ice cream for breakfast and I'm so angry I could explode."

Other Man finishes and leaves before either of us. Nearing the end of the exam, you realize that you will not be needing the services of the pen you rescued from the floor, so you throw it, with obvious intent, back to where you found it. I'm guessing you like to make those immigrant cleaning ladies really work for their money.

I didn't wait around after I finished to discuss your motives with you.