"I like you," he said, looking at me like I'm crazy (which I am).
"Because you're hot and you like me?"
What? No. That is not a sufficient answer and certainly not adequate enough reason to enter into a relationship. I took his chin and pressed his mouth together in that really painful fish face my mother used to inflict on me when I was 8 and complained of my shoes being 3 sizes too small.
"You must make a list of reasons you like me," I demanded. He wiggled out of my grip and laughed.
Sitting there on the couch, I got him to come up with a few things such as a mutual lack of respect for vegetables and an ability to banter in a sarcastic manner. He was supposed to complete this list by Saturday, but I have given him an extension since he's making a conscious effort to smile less. I'm Onto You, You Lesbian called me and weighed in on the situation last week when I'd caught him up. His suggestion was that I "stop being a huge bitch."