bringing on the heartbreak

I use the term "heartbreak" loosely, as I didn't/don't have the right to mean it. It all boils down to my favorite Westlife song (which I reference again and again): can't lose what you never had.

Or in a more profound adage:
Everyone knows what happened when Hamlet hesitated. Tragedy.

Flashback to two weeks ago, during the Batch 1 summer outing. Kids on the special table -- drunk but still aware of their surroundings (baka may chuva na maganap... aminin!) -- are now openly discussing topics most people would probably be shocked appalled intrigued aroused if brought up during office hours. You know: versatility, whether or not to shit where one eats, autofellatio, which people should join the special table. Those stuff.

By default (me channeling Badette here), FOCs (first office crushes) and FOC-primes (read: second, third... times 10 to the nth power), and the PN++ were discussed. Enter the big reveal: the Cubby apparently got itself a date.

(Yes, I'm referring to it as "it" now. Kinda makes me feel better thinking that it is an "it" I will eventually own. BWAHAHAHAHA!)

Flash-forward to a couple of days ago (is that grammatically correct -- using future modifier to a past event?) and Jake, goddamn him, confirmed it.

In fairness, I also did confirm it. Well not really confirm... but the evidence points to that direction, what with all the "chummy" stuff: the casual brushing of certain body parts, the exchange of knowing looks, the finishing of each other's thoughts...

*sigh*

Shit.