Not Jim Halpert

I ask Jack how it happened, what he did when he proposed to Jenny and Jack asks, “Which time?” and I say, “I didn’t know there were times, plural,” and Jack says, “Sure, sometimes it’s tough to tell when someone’s serious or when they’re just kidding around,” so I ask, “Well couldn’t you just tell her?” and Jack says, “No,” and I don’t ask any more because Jenny could be chlamydia or herpes, cured with antibiotics or lingering, blistering, ready to come back any time.

Jack asks, “What about you? Have you been engaged? You never said. I know there was Geoff and you lived together, but did you ever decide somebody was it, that you’d be fine with one person forever?”

“No,” I reply, “Geoff didn’t surprise me rings, or even ask about it,” and Jack says, “Oh, well don’t worry, it’ll happen”. I expect him to compensate with a gesture, a bowed on one knee for at least ten seconds one. Instead he checks his phone, and I mine, and no-one’s replied to anything I sent them earlier.

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