A Boy Named Seo wrote: Backpack Girl, why can't I meet someone like you? Confident and cute, but a little shy, too. You're so smart from your mid-size American University education. I've seen you in the quad a few times and want to talk to you, but I don't know what to say. I'd never invite you to that kegger on Thursday night. I'm sure you'd just think I was a dick. I'm scared to invite you to coffee. What if I have nothing interesting to say? What if you think I'm boring?? The thought of that scares the ever-loving shit out of me. You're not even the kind of girl I normally go for. I typically like a girl with a wild streak. Maybe a tramp stamp tattoo. A lip piercing. But your style is so minimal. No jewelry. No accessories of any kind. That's not really all that sexy to me. So why can't I stop thinking about you? And then I realize... there are no distractions with you, Backpack Girl. You don't want us to see you through the prism of some designer brand labels (Your backpack is rad. Is it a JanSport? I bet you don't even care). You don't want to impress us with a t-shirt of your favorite band (what kind of music do you like, Backpack Girl?), You just want us all to see you for who you really are. No fronts. No facades. Just a Girl. With a Backpack. I've got to confess. I looked you up on Facebook. I wanted to be friends with you there. Show you the cool shit I'm into. Make you like me as much as I like you. I saw your profile. Just one photo. That's so cool. Wall is "private". How do you do it, Backpack Girl? You need us all way less than we need you. I wanted to friend you, but realized it's all bullshit and you'd see through my act anyway (and I was scared you wouldn't accept). This isn't me. What have you done to me? Oh, Backpack Girl, how can someone so simple be so complex? I don't even know if your teeth are straight and white and I don't care. Backpack Girl, I think I love you. You stole my bit, I was going tell her, "You're right purty and I'd like to sniff yer butt."