"He should have messy brown hair, an English accent, like the same stuff as me..."
This is an inexact transscript of a conversation I had around midnight at a sleepover a few months ago. Here's a description of J, a boy I eat lunch with each day:
He has longish brown hair, and English accent, reads Agatha Christie, and watches Doctor Who. He performed in a play that rehearsed down the hall from the play I was in over the summer. He walks me to class after lunch every day and is the only person in the group who includes me in the conversation. And today, when I got cut out of the circle of chairs, he smiled at me across the crowd whenever MM moved out of the way.
And I feel absolutely nothing for him.
I think I may be a lesbian.