Jerk

Jake 01: Ironic Engagement Proposal

JERK.

Jake 01: Ironic Engagement Proposal

He was her best friend, and in every chick flick, novel, and shit the best friend always—al-fucking-ways—gets the girl. Like it was a damn rule or something. And he knew that and she was into that, so I guess it made sense that Grace smiled like it was her fucking wedding day and ran the opposite way from me and jumped to Miles's waiting arms.

Grace was that girl you wouldn't want to miss out on; the kind of girl you'd want to bring for your parents to meet and get married to and have your kids with, you know? And Miles, well, he was her best friend, the guy she knew and loved before she even walked. So who was I to get between the two of them from getting together and riding off the sunset in a white horse?

Oh, yeah. That's right. I'm her boyfriend—you know, the guy she's romantically interested in and sleeps with every night? Apparently, I'm also the jerk that got rejected from a wedding proposal. In front of all of our friends and family.

This was supposed to be an ironic proposal. It wasn't even a real proposal and I get rejected.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Grace always said that she loved all that attention shit and when she's proposed to, she wanted everyone she knew and love to witness it and she would cry and hug me and she would be filled with so much joy that she wouldn't even be able to say "yes!" and just kiss me in front of everyone like PDA wasn't a thing.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen! She wasn't supposed to run away with her stupid best friend in a motorcycle, which totally wasn't cool, by the way. I was supposed to be in my knees holding a fake ring in front of her and she was supposed to be ironically happy and put the fake ring on and everyone would be happy for us and we'd tell them that it was just a joke because that's how we roll.

Then, tonight, when we were alone, eating pizza, and playing Cards against Humanity (Jake and Grace Version), I'd propose to her. Then she'd roll her eyes, and I'd put the ring on her finger, and she'd tell me how lame I am and the night would be followed by hours of fantastic sex.

But, nooooooo.

Miles Jerk Face upped me.

Again.

And damn it I almost didn't run after her. I was thinking about ditching the party and head to the park and get some hotdogs because I haven't had one for a long time since Grace didn't like them and maybe get a dog, name it Grace because what she did was a bitch thing to do, and get on with my life, but I couldn't do that. Not when she gave that look. And yeah, I know what you're thinking. I should run after her because I love her and not because she had on that look that I may or may not have imagined. Or that I shouldn't run after her because she was a bitch by ditching me when I proposed to her ironically in front of all these people.

Maybe it was because the lighting was a little funny and from where I was standing, it seemed like she gave that look. But I was pretty sure that I wasn't imagining it.

If I didn't know any better, I wouldn't have recognized it, but I did. This was the woman I lost my virginity to, for God's sake, and I recognized that look like the back of my hand. It's the look that's engraved in the back of my mind as a reminder of how lame I was. It's her "oh, that's it?" look. I've seen it quite a bit of times back when we first started dating I was still... err, a beginner in the matter of sexual intercourse.