“Hey, what’s with the Terminator look? You know I don’t know John Connor, right?” She had her hair covering her left eye in a not-so-inconspicuous manner. She told me that it was because her left contact ripped, but I had to rip her for it. But not too much, I actually kinda like her…a little. “So really what’s under the bang of hair, a red eye?” “No, stupid, I already said it.” She’s getting flustered, aggravated really. Whatever, I’m having too much fun now.

Funny how karma bites us all in the ass. Not laugh out loud funny, but funny years down the line. I begin to know her slightly better, and find myself actually attracted to her. But in between time, I made so much fun of her she thinks nothing more of me than an immature, unfunny prick.

“Why does this happen every time man?” I complain to my best friend. He laughs. Hysterically. Then he explains. “You’re so defensive. You do the same thing with every girl you like, almost verbatim. You’re so defensive that you attack first so you won’t get hurt.”