Not in a broad, second-person-to-direct-it-at-the-reader-bullshit way.
In a -if-I-was-an-auctioneer-I'd-call-you-'in the back row with the cool hair and cool shoes, with the waistcoat. No not you David Tennant, the short one. No, not you Paul McDermott, the other short one. With the glasses and the cap and the talent, yeah you there' kind of way.
You are the one I will call when I have decided to give into the urges and drive on the wrong side of the road for a while, when I'm about to give up and call my boss a law- breaking heartless idiotic douchebag of a wog.
You are the one I'll call at three in the morning when I've just got to drive a very, very, very long way away down long dark winding highways.
You are the one I will call when I have lost it and don't want to find it for a while.
You are the one I will call when I just can't be normal anymore, when I can't spend my weekends sitting in front of the TV and doing homework, or not doing homework as is more often true.
Not because I think you're crazy, but because you're a rebel at heart, you're like my mentor for rebellious scandalosity. And yes, I just made up a word. (Are you
I'll call you because you won't try to stop me, but you will take lots of hilarious pictures, and write on things with sharpie with me, and you'll have my back.
I will never forget when you shot down that flamer for me. It was amazing, and it was then that I knew you cared about me, in whatever weird way suits you.
So, I thought I'd let you know that these temptations are building up heavy right now, I nearly drove the whole way home last night on the right (e.g. wrong) side of the road, like, very very close to actually doing it...
am I going nuts?