Wednesday, August 29, 2007

2nd post today

So, I figured out my problem, with boys, that is. Ready?

When I meet a boy I think I might have a thing for, or who might have a thing for me, I build this elaborate life we are getting ready to live. We will meet each other at our respective (or shared) work(s), and we will hug and exchange sweet nothings. Then we will meet up with some other folks and go bowling, or play games, something a group of 5 or more can all do together. We then, after an exhausting day of happiness and and each other, curl up together and peacefully chat until we both become incoherent and fall asleep. This, is, of course, wonderful. We are both blissfully happy, and we live in a perfect happy little world. We can go on like this forever, this faceless, nameless, really quite non-existent boy and I. So this doesn't happen every time, but I'd be lying if I said it hasn't happened incredibly recently. I always only find myself let down in the end, but still, I can't help this endless building.

When someone new, and different, and seemingly perfect for me in so many ways comes along, who can resist that dream, the thought that this could be the one. This new one, I'd very much like him to be a one. Maybe not the one but a one. He has a lot of qualities I have been looking for, but haven't found, and a lot of qualities I'd like to have myself. Golly. This isn't nearly as serious as I am making it sound. It is just an entirely innocent crush that I have, on a boy. I'd like him to like me, too. Crushes are painful.

In the same way that break-up songs make you feel worse yet some how better, after a break up, love songs do that when you have a crush. It is so painful because this person may not like you or care to even know you, but you have given them all this time, so much time that you think about them while listening to songs you have heard 1,000 times, but somehow, the song is so different, and intense and meaningful when you have a crush. Guh.

Ring. I command you to ring, phone. I am looking at you, telling you to ring. R.I.N.G.

Now. Ring. Seriously.

It's so odd to me that a light going on, and a song by Ben Kweller can make my heart race, because that might mean that he is thinking of me, too.

I am lame.


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