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2009-09-20 - 12:43 p.m. Once upon a time there was a boy and a girl walking down the road together in the middle of the night. They left the bar with a group of people and somehow the group decided to go to a house party in some unknown location. The group started walking and slowly dissolved as the first person, who knew where the party was, ran on ahead and most of the group raced to catch up with him. And here was this boy, and this girl, and they don't even notice that everybody else has disappeared and it doesn't even matter because they are talking and sentences keep getting broken into with kisses. Somehow, the next day, the girl thinks the boy was rejecting her the night before, so he repeats, insistently and with separate emphasis each time, the phrase "I like you." And then repeated, "I like you," because the girl had thought this boy was terribly promiscuous, and, quote unquote, hit on everything with a pulse. And then repeated, "I like you," because the boy needed to put as much force behind that word as possible, to try and express just how much it was true. -- Standing in front of his door one night, holding his hand, she explains that they are not going to be having sex, and this boy, stupid fucking romantic that he is, whispers the stupid fucking truth in her ear, "I don't care if we do or we don't, I just want to spend this night with you." -- And then she has to leave. -- The next day this boy is talking to a friend, a french girl who speaks broken english, about the book he's reading, and he mentions that it came from that other girl, the one who is the whole point of this story. The french girl, even though she doesn't understand a lot of words, still understands the look in his eye when he says her name, and even though the conversation wasn't about it at all, she says, sadly, the simple honest truth, "you miss her."

[ Who - Whom - Old - Host ] The one where I fucking miss her.