It's a mystery to me why, for the past eight months, I've failed to develop any sort of prolonged attachment to a guy. I've just not been interested! I think for the first time since like, the eighth grade, I just wasn't all that interested in liking a guy. This could be due to the fact that there is a missionary in the works. No, I'm not waiting for him. No, we weren't ever official in any way, but he did kiss me before he left (not as a fulfillment of any sort of goal he had or a "filling the canteen" sort of thing...you gotta know the guy to know that he was sincere) and we have a long, extensive history together. So, needless to say, that has kept me going the past eight months.
That was the case: up until yesterday.
Yesterday brought to me Stanley (names have been changed...mostly to protect the small amount of decency I have left in my life). Ironically, Stanley served in the same place that Missionary Boy served and knew who he was. Sort of how I got to know him, I guess. And Stanley speaks French, and we all know my affinity towards men that speak French (basically I melt into a pathetic puddle when it happens). Well, something about Stanley struck me, and now I find myself crushing on this boy.
Well, not blah. It's a nice change of scenery from staring endlessly at a mailbox, hoping against all hope that a letter came. Maybe I was more desperate for some male companionship than I thought. But, it does come with strings...strings that I haven't had to deal with since last year when I got my heart stomped on by Motorcycle Man (another story for another time). Anxieties that are just natural when you're a woman liking a man. It sucks.
So here I am, blogging about men. How low have I come? It's like a sappy high school love drama, but without the drama...and a lot of the sappy, but that may come later, unfortunately.