Two people: young, dumb, and not in love at all.

I think I wrote five different blog posts tonight. 

Somehow, this was the one that I deemed worthy to post. 

The other day, in the car with Austin, I started panicking. 

Everyone got married over Christmas break. 

Everyone.

So, in casual conversation, I tried to slip in a 

"if-we're-both-not-married-by-the-time-we're-twenty-eight-we'll-marry-each-other"

proposition.

You know, all reminiscent of Julianne Potter.

He said no.

...

And after the awkward silence, the extremely loud awkward silence, 

we bought some sour gummy worms, two large Sprites, and went to see a movie.

We bounce back fast, I guess. 

Tonight, I called him, excited to hear all about his night, but not even seven minutes into the conversation, we were talking about me, and sorting out my silly problems. 

Multiple times, and through some glossy tearful eyes, I tried to steer the conversation back on course, hear all about him,

and just as often, he swerved back the other way, and we were figuring out what to do with me again!

So, this is all to say:

Dear Austin Daw,

Thanks for being a class act. 

I really, really love your skinny guts, and when we FaceTime in the middle of the day for no reason at all.

Also, sorry I made fun of you when you told me you cried in Parental Guidance...

You're my

best, best, best, best, best friend.

And I don't want to marry you, either.

Love, love,

Courtch.