“I’m just saying,” I say, turning a bit more, “that I don’t know how to be your boyfriend. And I don’t think you’d want that from me.” “Fine,” he says. “Understood.” “And I know that you think we’re doomed—Romeo-and-Juliet style.” “Completely,” he says to his knees. “And I don’t think I’m gay,” I say. “I mean, maybe I am, at least partly, the part that seems to be demanding the most attention right now …”
Simon is screwing this up spectacularly
