“What’s got you so sucked in, Evan?” Wes asks. He’s chilling on the couch with their friend Max, drinking some beers and watching the Knicks. “You’re not even pretending to care about the game like you usually do.”

Evan looks up, blinks a few times, gives the television a cursory glance. “Oh hey, yeah, they’re winning. Yay.” Then his eyes drift right back to his computer screen and stay glued to it. He might as well be hypnotized. “I’m just…um…studying up on some investment strategies for my morning meeting.”

Max goes to get another brew. On his way to the kitchen, he pauses behind Evan. “I’m pretty sure that’s what’s called a bad investment,” he says when he sees what Evan is actually looking at. “Wes, tell him to cut the shit. He’s gawking at that Dylan chick again.”

Wes shakes head. “Stop wasting your time. You never even talked to her at school. Why would things be any different now?”

If Evan is embarrassed at the incessant Insta- and FB-stalking of his massive crush—a girl he still hasn’t worked up the nerve to speak to in four years—he doesn’t let on. “The real world is a great equalizer,” he replies, staring earnestly at his friends. If he’s looking for agreement, he’s come to the wrong place. They’d much rather have him go after someone he has the slightest chance with than continue hoping for an impossibility. “It’s where the supposed dorks of the world start to rule. For example, look at how hot Mark Zuckerberg’s wife is.”

Max cracks open another beer, plops back down on the couch, and puts his feet on the coffee table. It’s not even his place—he still lives with his mother in Queens—but since he spends most of his time here, he feels like he can make himself as much at home as he pleases. “I hate to tell you this but Zuckerberg actually dated his hot wife in college. Which means he actually talked to her in college. Moot point. Move on.”

Wes shoots the Nerf ball he’s been tossing back and forth between his hands at the hoop suction cupped to the wall. Swish. “I have to be straight with you here: Dylan is not now nor will she ever be in your league. And why are you so stuck on her anyway? She’s one of those bitchy chicks who only likes jackasses. The nicer a guy is, the less interested she is. And you are one of the nicest guys I know, my friend. Game over.”

Evan pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He truly believes one day Dylan might just wake up and realize what’s been missing all her life is him. Stranger things have happened, he thinks. “You’ve got Dylan all wrong, guys. I actually believe underneath that slightly intimidating exterior is a sweet and caring person. She’s just introverted. Her shyness is misconstrued as bitchiness by people who aren’t looking deep enough.”

Max and Wes exchange a look and laugh. Evan is forever getting stuck on the wrong girls. Ones he doesn’t even know, and will most likely never get to know. Which must be why he feels the need to create such elaborate backstories for them (that are unfailingly inaccurate).

“Remember when you made me register for that god-awful class Bloodsucking as a Metaphor: Vampires, Werewolves and the Living Dead because you were obsessed with that goth chick? And you decided because she liked to make herself look as pale as possible that must mean she had terrible anemia, so you made her a liver sandwich to help boost her iron levels?” Wes reminds him. “Please recall that did not go over big, my man. You were wrong about Goth Girl, just like you’re wrong about Dylan.”

“Try going for someone who actually speaks to you next time, so you know what their actual deal is and don’t have to fill in the blanks with bullshit,” Max agrees.

Evan shrugs it off. He’s convinced that he still has a chance with the Goth Girls and Dylans of the world. Who knows? The next time he runs into Dylan, she might just see how cool and desirable he is. She’s more grown up now, and therefore probably more willing to look past his slightly geeky exterior to find his deeply attractive mind and soul.

“You’ll see. I’m going to message Dylan right now,” Evan says, hoping his friends don’t call his bluff. “Ask if she’s going to be at the young alumni event in a couple of weeks, and suggest we go out for drinks after.”