“Okay, this moping you’re doing doesn’t make you any more handsome, though truth be told, you couldn’t look much better than you already do.” This was Laura, and she was trying to cheer me up at the LGBT meetup the week of Thanksgiving.
She and Belinda had become good friends and I’d shared all my dirty laundry with them weeks ago, so they knew the score.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said, and I knew I sounded whiny and pathetic, but I couldn’t help it. “He hasn’t said anything to me since that day except ‘hello’ in passing, though he’s unfailingly polite. He doesn’t go out of his way to see me or bring me coffee…”
“And, oh my God, are you a spoiled rotten brat.” This was Belinda, who was playing a three-person game of Scrabble with Laura and me away from the heated discussion behind us
