A courtesy notice

She's taken. Keep dreaming, bud.

You asked McKinley for her number. Bold move. Instead of digits, you got this link, which is honestly the most attention you're going to get. Take a seat. This won't take long.

Show me the evidence

McKinley dressed as Cupid, aiming her bow at me

Me carrying McKinley in my arms in a yard full of autumn leaves

Status: extremely taken

Let's talk about it

So you saw her, felt a little spark, and decided today was your day. Respect for the confidence. The problem is she already has someone who knows her coffee order by heart, carries her through piles of autumn leaves, and thinks she's the best thing that ever happened to this planet. That someone is me. Hi. Nice to meet you. I won't remember your name.

She's mine, I'm hers, and you're reading a website.

McKinley as Cupid holding her bow, standing next to me covered in lipstick kisses

Exhibit A

She went as Cupid. I went as the guy she hit. You weren't invited.

Your odds, calculated

0.00%

We checked twice. Then we stopped, because it was getting sad.

Things I have that you don't

Her number. Saved under a heart.
Her hoodie collection, on loan forever.
Every Saturday night, booked.
Her actual, genuine interest.

McKinley and me kissing in front of shelves of pumpkins at night

Pumpkin patch. You weren't there.

Black and white mirror selfie with the words i love you

She wrote that. Not to you.

"Who was that guy?"

McKinley, about four seconds after you walked away.

Highlight reel

Here's a highlight reel you're not in.

Scroll slowly. Let it sink in. There's no rush, since you don't have plans this weekend anyway.

01/ 06

McKinley and me at an ice rink — The ice rink. She held my hand the whole time. Not because she was scared.

McKinley and me smiling in our Cupid costumes — Couples costume. Notice how there's exactly two of us.

McKinley and me making pouty faces at the camera — Matching pouts. Years of practice. You couldn't keep up.

McKinley and me covered in lipstick marks — Count the lipstick marks. Now count how many are on you.

McKinley and me using a silly face filter — We look ridiculous here. She still picked me.

Black and white photo of McKinley and me with a neon heart drawn on it — Late nights. Neon hearts. Sorry, that one's private. You can look, though.

Some ground rules, for your own good.

Don't text her.

You don't have the number. This rule is mostly a formality.

ii.

Don't like her old posts.

We can see it. We screenshot it. It becomes a bit. You become the bit.

iii.

Don't "just want to be friends."

Sweet idea. She has all she needs. The friend slots are full, and they were full before you.

iv.

Do go find your own McKinley.

Good luck with that. There's only one, and she's sitting next to me.

Reviews from previous applicants.

"Asked for her number at the gym. Got a URL. Still not sure what happened. One star."
Guy who spots people who didn't ask

"I said 'hey, I think we have a class together.' We do not. I have since switched classes."
Tyler, probably

"I thought she was smiling at me. She was smiling at her phone. He'd texted her."
A man who now walks home alone

"The site was beautifully made, which honestly made it worse."
Recent visitor, maybe you

McKinley and me in our Cupid costumes standing in autumn leaves

Okay, real talk for a second

This part isn't for you. It's for her.

McKinley, people try for you because you're beautiful in every way. You're impossible not to notice. Trust me, I noticed first.

You're the brightest person in every room, you're kinder than you need to be, and you make ordinary days feel like they were planned for months. That kind of joy can't be faked.

You put up with my long yap sessions about coding and work, the useless fun facts you never asked for, and my habit of building random websites, including this one.

Thank you for choosing me, every day. I will always choose you too. I love you.

Yours, obviously.

Your options