Just Joshin’

A look at the world through my eyes. Well, just part of the world.

Josh Perlman
Josh Perlman. Hatchet File Photo

My friend and I returned to her room after a night out in Adams Morgan, both exhausted from fist pumping and pretending we knew the words to songs like “Let’s Go” by Ne-Yo.

Just kidding, I know all the words.

She plopped down on her bed, and I made myself comfortable in her roommate’s bed before engaging in some grade-A pillow talk. I lay there with one leg under the covers and the other hanging haphazardly off to the side.

I had already consumed a jumbo slice of pizza and one microwavable vegetable burrito at this point, so I was a little bloated. I could feel the burrito sitting stubbornly in my stomach, and the occasional burp reminded me that I was still digesting.

We then struck up one of those conversations that could only be possible at 2 a.m. after several rum and cokes.

“Have you ever had your heart broken?” she asked.

I let this question marinate in my brain for a minute before responding. I gave a sigh that implied I was reflecting on a nonexistent painful past.

Do I delve into a sob story about “the one that got away?” Or do I twist this around and make her pity me for not having the luxury of a turbulent love life?

“Do we ever really love?” I wanted to say. “Be honest with me. What is love to you?”

I settled for a hodge-podge mixture of all these sentiments. I spoke slowly as I provided my philosophical yet self-reflective response, offering a courteous pause at the end of each thought to give her time to answer with “Mmm” or “Please, tell me more.”

“Well, it’s hard for me to say if I’ve ever been in love,” I said.

Pause. She said nothing.

“I mean, there is someone, but it’s a stupid story, really.”

Pause. Still nothing.

I sat up in bed to make sure she was still with me. Sure enough, my friend was sleeping like a baby. Just my luck, I thought. I finally get the courage to open up to someone, and this is what I get?

Feeling neglected and used, I took a moment to consider my next move. I could find a Sharpie and write my answer on her face, but it would probably be impossible to read come morning.

I decided to be the bigger person, and went back to my room to pour my emotions into a bowl of Easy Mac. This is definitely how people get fat.

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