Books is my best friend essay

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31 0 0 0 1 1. Matt Bellassai’s new book Everything Is Awful. Posted on October 17, 2017, at 1:16 p. I met Kellan on the third day of our freshman year of college, at a dining hall table of misfits. Note: Kellan is not his real name, but it is the name of a gay porn star I like, so we’ll call him that to spare him scrutiny and also to further indulge my fantasies. There was Aaron, a moppy-haired engineer who, by day three, had already fully embraced the shower-free, anti-deodorant, sweatpants-and-flip-flops lifestyle of the college professional. Then James, a Chinese immigrant studying economics, who always wore jeans that ended four inches above his ankles, and who, I assume, is still wearing the same outfit as he manages some billion-dollar hedge fund on Wall Street.

That night, we all became friends, and ate dinner together for most nights after that. We studied books is my best friend essay at night and played video games on the weekends and occasionally smuggled cheap vodka from the junior who lived down the hall, to bring to football games, which was just an excuse to eat cheese fries and be underage drunk outdoors. So Kellan and I grew particularly close. Then I’ll have nobody to hang out with.

Books is my best friend essay paragraph

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And I felt warm and fuzzy and good about the fact that I’d found a friend who considered me his person, another boy who would genuinely miss me when I was gone and rejoice when I returned. Kellan was an only child, the son of wealthy parents, who spent much of his childhood moving from private school to private school around the world. He’d spent the last several years in Texas, where he’d developed the slightest of southern twangs, but he was, in other words, someone who’d been similarly unaccustomed to deep friendships with other guys. We’d become friends largely out of chance, but we liked each other’s company, and worked well together.

You can tell where this is going. It had only been, like, two months and I was already wildly over-reading the cues. I knew he was straight, don’t get me wrong, but he was sensitive and endearing and he actually liked hanging out with me! I’d never had a close guy friend before — not in adulthood, at least — let alone one that I kinda thought had a nice face and teeth and arms and butt, though I would never admit that, even to myself. And so, we did everything together. On Christmas break, we’d chat online every day, and being the wildly insecure person I was, I’d often wait for him to chat me first, so I knew he really wanted to talk, and then I’d obviously interpret that as a sign that he was somehow falling in love with me.

It didn’t take long into our sophomore year before I started expecting too much. Actually, that’s the nice way of putting it. The truth is, I went crazy. I was in love but didn’t want to admit that I was in love, not because I didn’t want to admit that I was gay, but because I knew he wasn’t, and I wanted our relationship to be the most it could be without us having to say it. The closest you can possibly be to being gay for one another without actually being gay because obviously neither of us is gay, we’re just best friends! I should note, the following behavior is embarrassing to admit, but it happened, and in the interest of full disclosure, I’m copping to all of it.

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