Every day for the past six months I walk into work and stare at you. You just stand there with your knife and board cutting stuff up and attempting to make small talk. Maybe that's where the phrase "chopping it up" came from? Haha. Anyways you are the exact replica of what is "my type" and it makes me job a living hell. See I've tried to talk to you, but the butterflies keep me silent and looking like an idiot. And I'm sorry. Sorry for telling you how I feel and getting myself into this mess. I meant what I said you are adorable. Perhaps it made me mad when you snitched me out to the owner for my confession of love. Nobody likes to be rejected. Luckily I didn't go for the flowers or annonomis bag of gummy dicks. One little text, explaining that you're adorable gets me into this mess. While men can get away with murder in the kitchen. Oh well, luckily ( insert fake name here) is a cool owner and offered to transfer me to another location so I wont have to deal with you're pretty face anymore. I'm going to miss this never ending game of hard to get. Or maybe you just don't like me and I can't face it. Dont worry I'll move on. I already have 2 boyfriends I dont have time to obsess over somebody that doesn't feel the same way.