I have this sneaking suspicion...

I knew it.

I knew it.

Because you wouldn't all be misleading me all this time, hinting at it and then having it not be the case, would you?

No, not you.

Because you're great; that's why I like you.

And you like me.

In fact, I'm totally your favorite.

I know you've tried to hide it, just so other people around wouldn't feel too bad. I see you being nice to them and all, laughing at their jokes, telling them a story, patting them on the arm.

But we know, you and I; we know that it's me you like the most. I can tell by the way you turn and crinkle your eyes at me in just that way. Ha! That's our own little secret look, like a handshake, but much easier to do across a roomful of people. Much better for you to nod your head and wink, then turn back to the person talking to you, all the time knowing that I'm your favorite person of all.

The rest of the world doesn't have to be in on it; let that tall guy think he's your favorite; we won't disillusion him just yet--let him be happy for a little while first; maybe he'll even buy you chocolates. And the girl in the plaid skirt? Yeah. I know she was your confidante before we met, but she's only getting side details now; I'm getting the real stuff--the dish on your life.

It's true; I'm pretty much everybody's favorite. Yep, that's me. I look around and everybody's smiling just at me because I'm so pretty and so fun to be around. Guys may go off and talk to those perky blond girls, but really they're just looking for advice on how to approach me, practicing their man-skills on lesser objects. And those same perky blond girls? Yeah. I'm totally their favorite too. Because I'm clever and funny and so, so nice.

They all love me.

And you know you do too. Really. Go ahead and deny it, but we both know it's true.

'Cause I'm your favorite too.