Tall Coffee Shit Head Notice Me Never

I'm in the eighties movie I always secretly wished for myself. I'm working a low class job while putting myself through school. I have a ton of friends and a few really good girlfriends that I'm so close with. I drive a little red convertible like a bitch who plays tennis on the weekends. I drink and dance and kiss boys and maybe once in a while a coke conversation will come up. The parallels exist. And just like in my eighties movie the boy I am in love with only is in love with the ego boost flirt sesh over his tall coffee and nothing more. Far be it for me to have feelings and consider myself his equal; I realize now that he is a Royal Tenenbaum and I am more likely an Andie Walsh, trying to pass off my hideous pink prom dress as cute and sexy. Well, that's the risk you take I suppose when you put yourself out there. I know this lesson too well, know this all to familiar agenda of a man. He can listen to that cd and wish on a hundred stars I never gave it to him...but I'm guessing he won't wish that. I think he's glad/sad/mad? I don't know really, I know him just about as well as he knows me. He has my heart and mind on 16 tracks and I have google. I can't ever keep my cards close, I want to immedietly show my royal flush and then I expect everyone to hand over their chips. I say I am seemingly clairvoyant but that is an understatement. I knew he was fishing for an answer and I wasn't giving it. Our hearts are wrong sometimes.