So we should talk about yesterday. It's been awhile, hasn't it? We can't just skirt this fact, move around it, punch it in the gut and hope it stays down, man. I trusted you. Loved you, even. We were best friends, you know that? The best. Man, I knew there was something wrong.

You should have told me. I'd have believed you! I know you think I'm this floppy, unreliable pool of giggles and everything, but hey. I got some class. Some integrity. Sure, you may not see it all the time, but let's not dwell on the Christmas Santa Incident of '08 for too long now, shall we?

No, you just don't like confrontation. That's it. You thought you'd waltz in, all "hey, just thought I'd drop by with a box of M&M's and the first season of Scrubs and we'd hang". Totally innocent. It's funny. Your face goes all purple when you're shocked, all purple and wide. Shit, sometimes you look like an eggplant had a child with a Smurf, but hey, just calling what I see.

But I saw through your little ninja smoke screen, 'kay? Right on through and back. You were all nervous, man. You had this goofy grin and you smelled like the cheap cologne I bought you in France last summer. Like someone dumped you in a vat of pink lemonade. Oh, and that shirt you thought was super cute? Yeah, I got that for you, too, man. Okay, so it's my dad's, and so he doesn't know it's missing, but damn you've got bad taste in clothes (flannel, man? Really?)

You should've just asked me straight up, none of that epic awkward stuttering. It's great you tried to be honest. I really like your heart and those weird emo poems you read, but it doesn't mean I want them spewed on my couch like the aftermath of a unicorn's dessert. Just tell me why you came and what you want.

It was a nice ring, man.

I like you. A lot.

Just ask me, then, man. Just freakin' sit up straight and ask me, you coward.

'Cause when you do, I'll answer yes of course.

Of course I'll marry you, man.