Is…this…anxiety?
On today’s episode of Alex’s TMI Chronicles… *insert Law and Order sound*
Me: (staring at guy)
Him: “Hi.”
Me: “Oh! Hi. Sorry about that. You’re very attractive.”
Him: “Really?”
Me: “Yes, you’re lovely.” (Starts to walk away)
Him: “So…”
Me: (panics)
Him: “What’s your name?”
Me: (sweat) “Alex.”
Him: “You’re cute.”
Me: (hyperventilates) “Oh?”
Him: “Maybe we can get a cup of coff—“
Me: (Beats Usain Bolt’s record running away)
wHy aM i LiKe tHiS???
I can flirt as long as it doesn’t go past flirting. Today, a guy approached me while I was out and about (probably because my hair’s currently not a Bird’s Nest of Doom & I have 2 brows again so…slayage), and instant nausea. I’m still sick. I may end up with ginger tea and Infinity War on Netflix tonight.
Seriously, Waterlily?
(Who got the Golden Girls reference?)
I want men to leave me alone, but then I want one for myself to hug, lick, bite, kiss, ignore, feed copious amounts of macaroni and cheese, and ask for a puppy for Christmas.
I am not this ambivalent with anything else in my life. And I think, even if I do allow myself to even speak to a guy, I have learned the code of what makes guys think girls are crazy…and then I become every single descriptor.
My father was right when he said nobody would ever want me, ever again, after I left my first boyfriend.
(He had a whole baby on the way but…yeah. ‘My’ fault.)
Thing is, at this point, I can’t tell if I’m batting zero or one-thousand.
