Oh look. Again? Seriously, this is like the third time just since lunch. Leave Jenna alone already! For one thing, she presumably has work to do, and for another, she is not actually ever going to date you, sleep with you, or even think of you as someone one might do those things with. And your endless laps past my desk to go bother her just leave you sad and me irritated.
I know that she has shiny pretty hair and her clothes and jewelry match and she always smiles at you when you walk in in the morning. She's the receptionist! It's basically her JOB to be polite and friendly. Have you ever managed to have an actual conversation with her? Between your lack of social skills and the fact that the two of you have nothing in common, I'm guessing the answer is "no.”
And because you want what popular culture, and sometimes even geek culture, tell you you're supposed to want instead of thinking about what might actually make you happy, I'm stuck cheering you up over lunch at least twice a week. It's getting old. I'd really rather play Carcassonne on our phones, or talk about last night's Battlestar Galactica episode, or throw out some ideas for that login page redesign. But half the time all we're allowed to talk about is how pretty Jenna looks in today's cute little skirt, or how crushed you are that she didn't let you bring her a soda from the kitchen.
Sometimes I don't even know why I bother being friends with you. But then I remember that working with you and goofing off at lunch is the best part of this job, even if some days I want to smack you. I'm half-terrified that someday you're finally going to get fed up with this place and leave me to deal with Rob myself. What a moron. He can't even spell the word "algorithm," and he probably gets paid twice what we do.
So even though I wish you'd stop mooning over people you don't realize you don't even really want, I'll do what I always do when you trudge past my desk on the way back from getting rejected by Jenna. As soon as I finish writing these unit tests, I'll go grab some Fritos and Mountain Dew from the vending machine (damn that stuff is nasty, I don't know how you can drink it). I'll take them over to your cube, pretend I got them for myself and have some left over, and offer to share. I’ll ask what you're working on, make a couple of sarcastic comments, and you'll be smiling and laughing by the time my build finishes.
Then I'll go home and search match.com for guys who want to date a code monkey who writes good code but has no idea how to apply makeup and would rather sleep in in the morning than do her hair. Maybe if I'm lucky there will be one within a two-hour drive.