His name is not actually Fernando, just so you know. That's his Spanish name. He's not Hispanic either. He's white. He just uses the name "Fernando" in Spanish class. His real name is John. I asked my sister why he didn't choose a more appropriate name like "Juan" as it was the custom to choose a name that started with the same letter of your actual name to which she replied, "there are two Johns in our class and the other John (not my John) took the name "Juan" already. So, the teacher told him to be Fernando."

Huh.

"We started talking because I kept singing 'Fernando' by ABBA whenever I would see him in class and in the hallways. He would get so annoyed. It was so cute."

"Mhm."

She further informed me that from now on, whenever I needed to say his name, I was to use "Fernando" instead of "John" because her best friend's name was also John (not the John in her Spanish class, but a different John who transferred to private school this fall) and she would have no idea which one I was referring to, even though we have never talked about John before… Her best friend, John, not Fernando-John.

He's a nice guy, don't get me wrong. I just don't think he really fits in with my family's dynamic. For one, he is way too docile and demure for my mom. The dominating intensity of her presence alone would be enough to scare the shit out of that boy, and she would use his skinny body for the base of a stew and serve it to our family in a bowl with crispy garlic bread and a cobb salad on the side. He also wouldn't get along with my dad. It's not that my dad wouldn't like him. In fact, Fernando had a lot of the qualities my dad wished for in a husband for us: compassion, kindness, respect, responsibility, intelligence. The two of them would get along just fine, but they wouldn't necessarily be bro-ing it out together watching Monday night football on the couch with a lime-infused beer in one hand and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos split between the two of them. The most they would ever feel toward one another is tolerance.

I don't know. To me, he's just another immature high school boy that isn't ready to accept the responsibility and work it takes to maintain a relationship. But to be fair, neither is my sister. She's just as naive and emotionally rash as he is:

"I asked him if I was more than just a body to him, and he said 'yes.' I feel so loved."
"Is it crazy that I can just see us growing old together? Can't you imagine it?"
"What do you think of him? He's perfect, right?"
"He drives a Mercedes and has a Visa Black Card. Isn't that so insane? But he's so humble about using it. He usually pays in cash so it doesn't come across as bragging about his wealth. Isn't he so humble?"
"I told him I wanted to suck his dick and he said I could do it the next time he picks me up in his car. Isn't that romantic?"
"I now know what true love is."
"I want Mom and Dad to meet him so bad. I can't wait for our families to love each other."
"He said that he loves me despite my anxiety. I've never felt so loved in my entire life."

They broke up about two weeks later. Not that they were ever really boyfriend and girlfriend to begin with as he never formally asked her out.

"Yeah he was such a fucking asshole. He never took the initiative to ask me to hang out or do things for me. He didn't deserve my love. Ugh, but I miss him so much."

"So I guess you could say, 'if you had to do the same again, you would, my friend, Fernando?'"

"Shut the fuck up."