For some reason, I cannot put away the memory of you in that picture on your Facebook. It wasn't a particularly spectacular one, just you in that perfect light blue shirt that matched your eyes, goofing off with your best friend, being boys for whatever reason. But between the way the sun made your hair shine like melted butter and the fact that your carefree laugh showed off your smile in the most flattering way, I became infatuated with you. And yet, I don't even know what your motives were for taking this picture. You certainly didn't mention them in the caption. Maybe you were trying to look masculine, like the perfect All-American teenage boy for that perfect All-American girl, the one who's a cheerleader
and a straight-A student and Student Council president to boot (and much better than me in, well, everything). If that was your motive, then you didn't think it through too well, because you certainly don't look too all-American: good looks and Ralph Lauren polos, yes, but football, Coca-Cola, trucks and/or baseball caps, no. I'm sorry, but your logic failed. Besides, she has a boyfriend.

I never liked baseball caps anyway.

Maybe for some reason you did take this picture for me. It would mean the entire world to me if you had. At the very least, it would make me feel better than knowing you just took it to show off that you had friends and a life. I don't want to sound like one of those melodramatic Nicholas Sparks movies, but I wish I could tell you how much I love this picture. More than Cherry Garcia ice cream, more than a new episode of “Glee,” more than what it felt like to have the Miss Maryland Crabs Jr. crown placed on my head last summer. Did you see that picture? I may have looked stupid in a giant crab-shaped tiara with tears streaming down my face, but I was thinking of your reaction when I got it. I wanted you to know that I'm special, like you, Mr. Quarterback.

Speaking of which, maybe you could come with me to one of my appearances for MMCJ, unless you're allergic to shellfish. I hope you're not, because for the next eleven months, I'll be eating more crab cakes than you can shake a can of Old Bay at. If you did go, I guess you could eat the lemon. And maybe some tartar sauce, if you're into that type of thing. At least you have options.

Oh my gosh, you just made a new status update! Is it to ask me out? To confirm that you posted that picture for me? To confirm that you're not allergic to crustaceans? To …

You're now in a relationship with Miss All America. Three people like this.

I guess I should stick to Cherry Garcia.