All you have to do is call my name

Today is a level three Owen Wilson “wow” fall day.

Might be false fall. But still. My window’s open. The air feels great. I don’t feel, as someone else once put it, like I’m being stung by a million bees.

I was able to text Jack to clean up the kitchen without getting worked up about it.

I’m thinking about Mikey. Mikey loves Gilmore Girls. You’d love him. You probably already love him and you don’t even know him. But the fact that Gilmore Girls is his comfort show should cement that for you.

Mikey can’t stand Jess. Sometimes he can see the allure but then he gets so enraged at how Jess is a no call/no show of a human being. All that potential to be really amazing and he’ll let you down and break your heart. But he’s in your heart. Your heart has grown around him and now there’s a little Jess sized hole that only fits the Jess-sized action figure. He’s 1979 Boba Fett.

For over a year I complained to Mikey about Tyler. Like Big on SATC. “He can get a hold of me, but I can’t get a hold of him!” It drove me IN-fucking-SANE so I finally stood him up on NYE. And I felt bad.

He never feels bad about disappearing and it drives me up the wall.

I’m learning to deal with the absences and just enjoy him as it comes. But not without these stupid little games we all play in the iPhone age. I know he’s not gonna call so I block his number. I don’t erase it. I just block it. He’s going to have to climb a hurdle to get my attention. Who are we kidding? He’ll get my attention. This game serves no one. But it gives me the illusion of control in a world of chaos.

Now Mikey is dealing with Tyler’s capricious bullshit and he’s annoyed. “Finally!!! You see what I’ve been dealing with!!!”

Mikey, who as you know from reading this far, can’t stand Jess. He says Ty is Jess. He’s not wrong. I hate to admit how not wrong he is because I too had a crush on Jess and he’s such a let down and yet I still want Rory to end up with him.

No. NO. No!!!! The Jesses of the world all worry they’ll end up alone because they’re so misunderstood. But it’s not that complicated. We understand. The problem is you let us down and you don’t know how to a. Stop doing it; and b. say sorry and move on.

So the Jesses of the world end up alone and fulfill their own promises. If I were the Catcher in the Rye trying to keep young men from plummeting into the chasm, I’d tell them to buy girls more flowers and answer their fucking texts, even if it is to say, “I’m in the thick of it and I’ll get back to you when I can.”

And for the rest of us on the waiting end, I’d say, “Keep living your life. I know it hurts and you feel disillusioned. Stop building your self-image around the reflection in a broken mirror.”

I’ve got some communicating to do myself.

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