First things first, you're hot. Like, really hot.
Do you know you're that attractive?
And because you're that attractive, we can't help but stare. Sorry, not sorry. On behalf of girls everywhere, thank you for gracing us with your presence. Of course, I'll never actually tell you that.
Thank you for gracing us with those muscles in the gym, and those smiles in passing on the way to class.
Ugh, our hearts can't handle it.
Because most of you play sports and we see you after you get out of practice every night, let me be the first to say that we all have taken a sudden interest in the sports you play. (And in you, but that's not the point.)
I can only hope that you guys are secretly super book smart with amazing senses of humor, just so I can justify how much I gawk at you. I refuse to be the girl that is attracted to a guy solely based on the fact that he looks hot when his hair is disheveled and his sweatpants are hanging just right.
Hang on, let me pick my jaw up off the floor because of that image.
Bless you, boys.
I can only hope that I have some freak accident happen that forces me to speak to you, like getting trapped in an elevator, or getting caught in the stairwell (again).
Let me say, though, that I don't just like you because I think you're hot. I like you because of the image I have painted in my head of you being the kind of boys who adore your momma, love dogs, and want to spend your Saturdays driving around listening to music.
What are the chances that I'm right? Hot, funny, smart, and respectful? Could we be so lucky?
Like I said, I will never tell you any of this.
Thank you for gracing us with your hotness in the various ways that you do.
We are truly blessed.