Mildly Pointless.

I went on another date. Let the celebration ensue.
It was joyous. Nothing over the top and nothing to get excited about, but we had fun. I went with a dear friend of mine whom I have known for years, who just recently returned from a 2 year jaunt in the Dominican Republic. It was so lovely to catch up with him and eat hamburgers and go to a rodeo. Truly, I love surprise rodeo dates. Also, firework shows are a wonderful thing. But I'm going to be honest here, I just felt kind of eh the whole time. It should have been a great, hilarious evening because I love my friend that I was with, but I kept thinking how much I wished I was with Library Boy instead. I was trying to be a great date and make it fun, but I felt like I was forcing it.
Rule #37: When you're on a date, be on that date. Try your very hardest not to think of other men.
Why, oh why, does Library Boy have to be so dang adorable and charming? Why must he take over my mind at inconvenient times when I'm trying to make myself stop thinking of him? That wretched boy is so wonderful, but it does not appear as though he returns my affection for him. Not that I would know for sure; I'm much more apt to sit and wonder what he's thinking than to actually go and ask him.

On a lighter note, I attended the wedding of Mr. Wickham this weekend. One of these days you will be privileged enough to hear that story. His wedding was fancy and interesting, and I was reassured that I am fully over my feelings for him. It was a very comforting weekend, considering how long it took for me to convince my heart to get over him.

This is a mildly pointless entry, but it all needed to be said. I apologize for my ramblings about Library Boy. I will attempt to keep them to a minimal in future posts. But I do not make any promises about that.

The Friendly Kisser.

It's Raining. It's Pouring.

Why is it that you can go months without any sign of dating excitement WHATSOEVER, and then suddenly be flooded with problems from multiple angles??

Last weekend was one of the floods. 

I had a date with Mr. Valentine on Friday night. I was moderately excited.. or, in other words, not overly giddy but still planning on having a grand time. The date itself was a fabulous night of four wheeling and roasting hot dogs. However, I'll spare you those boring details. What you DO need to know is this: conversation and chemistry was better than ever! We talked easily the entire night, entering a new level of "deep talking" that we had not previously reached. I really feel like I got to know him better... and actually liked what I got to know. On top of that, his communication continued to be superb. He loves to break all sorts of unwritten/unhealthy dating rules! Examples: he brought up several times during the night the fact that he was interested in me, asked me flat out if he was friend zoned or not, told me how fun it was to have my arms around him, and then told me how uplifting and inspiring I was to be around. While this all could be cheesy or absolutely revolting from a different guy, it was absolutely adorable coming from him! By the end of the date my scale had definitely gone up! 

Purposeless side note for entertainment only: During the date I had to use the bathroom SOO bad. Being away from any sort of restroom, I opted to go "wilderness style". He seemed to think this was rather amusing. But hey,desperate times call for desperate measures. 

I guess it's safe to say I would certainly be willing to go out with Mr. Valentine again. While I still am not completely smitten or convinced we would be compatible in a relationship, I have enough fun with him to see what could happen. 

Now let me get to the flood part. 

After being dropped off by Mr. Valentine, I returned home to the Roommate hanging out at my apartment. Long story short, less than 12 hours after returning from my date with Mr. Valentine, the Roommate vocally confessed his feelings for me. Where his previous two attempts of declaration had been vague and weak, this one was quite blunt. 

His exact words?

"I really like you but I know if I do anything about it I'm going to freak you out." 

The conversation lasted for quite some time, but I somehow left him with only the thought that "I was extremely confused about my feelings for him" and that "yes I was a little freaked out". The poor chap. If I was him, I'd be dying of frustration right now. And that was over a week ago. I went out of town for a week and left him with nothing but more confusion!

Dating Rule #12: It is near impossible to explain your feelings to someone when you, yourself, don't know how you feel. 

So now I sit, having returned from my trip, with quite the dilemma inside me. I need to talk to The Roommate, for he clearly deserves an explanation. And then there is Mr. Valentine. They are both being very vocal about their feelings for me.. But who do I prefer? Could I even see myself dating either of them??

I know part of me is simply flattered, but that is a horrid excuse. I need to dig down and discover my true feelings ASAP. Or I'm afraid all three of us are ruined forever*. 

*Please excuse my mild exaggeration. I'm only trying to add to the drama. 

The One Timer: Over and Out

A Date with a Ginger.

In my attempt to forget my feelings for Library Boy, I have accepted the offers from multiple (hopefully) trusted individuals to set me up on some dates. I must recount the most recent of these experiences to you, my dear readers.
Two weeks ago, my uncle asked my permission to give my number to a boy who he referred to as "a more attractive Ron Weasley." Now you see, I have a very soft spot in my heart for one Ronald Weasley (and most other gingers), and I knew that my uncle was playing with my emotions to try to convince me to accept this date. He won; I acquiesced.
This "more attractive Ron Weasley" called me that very week and we arranged the date. He was charmingly goofy while we talked on the phone and it wasn't a short make-the-plans-and-hang-up call, we chatted for 5-10 minutes and he was pleasant. Perhaps this could be a very fun date.
A few days prior to the day, we had a texting conversation to finalize our plans. After telling me what we were doing and my affermative response, he sent me the following text:
"ok, good! Well get the wrinkles out of that prom dress cause we are gonna rock p-town"
followed by "oh and I guess I need your address... for the limo"
Really? I'll give him points for originality, but what if I was one who took everything literally and then he showed up at my door to me wearing a big, pouffy prom dress? I was incredibly tempted to do so, just to put him in an awkward situation. Needless to say, I was not sure what to expect from this interesting human being.

The day came. He picked me up. He had flaming red hair.
It was a good blind date. There were no moments of super awkward silence, though he did occasionally ask some questions in an awkward, hesitant way. But it was fine. We went to dinner and then played some mini-golf and arcaded it up. He found out about my fantasy nerdiness within the first 2 minutes of the date and he completely accepted it. That was a good sign.
This boy was the most sarcastic person I've met in my entire life. And let me tell you, I've met some pretty sarcastic people. At least 3/4 of his statements during the entire night had to be followed up with "just kidding." I've never heard the phrase used more in one night. Now, I'm a pretty sarcastic person and I think sarcasm is hilarious, but there were times when it was a bit much. During a few moments of the date, I just wanted to talk to him, not have to be on my toes about what witty remark he was going to make next. Don't be confused, I felt pretty comfortable around him, I just wasn't ever sure exactly what he was actually thinking because he was always just joking.
All in all, it was a good date, something you can't always say for blind dates. I was able to talk to him pretty easily, we had fun, I got to play enough skee-ball to tide me over. But I don't think anything will come of it. I'm just thrilled he didn't end up being a weirdo.
Also, not nearly as attractive as Ron Weasley.

Peace. The Friendly Kisser.

Once Upon A Time

How do you sum up in words a story of the heart?

For no matter how beautiful I write this, no matter how many flowery adjectives and vivid verbs and perfect parallel sentences I create, it'll fall a little short. But I must try, because my outlook of the foreign and very little understood "male" species is all based around this story. Everything else I say is merely an appendage.

I'd like to tell you my story :) How is it that these tales begin? Oh yes.....

Once upon a time, I broke a boy's heart, and he was my Prince Charming. I'd known this boy since I was 14 years old. He had slowly and surely become the dearest friend I had, far surpassing my boyfriend of a year. He was my go-to guy for everything, the one I would call when a date went wrong or when I needed to go eat Red Robin fries for a night. I was one, huge constant giggle around my Prince Charming. When senior year of high school rolled around, he started chasing me, (what he later called his marathon chase,) and for a while I let him fall. I led him on, played cute and dumb, and then broke his heart in half when it was no longer in my best interest. It was selfish and terrible and awful, and this is where our story began. 

This is where the story began for me, because this is where I learned what trust was.This boy stayed my best friend through thick and thin. He's the only boy I've ever met who meant the phrase: "I'm here for you, and I'm going to be, no matter what." 

One night, at 3 in the morning, I texted him with a great idea: a run in the snow. The snowflakes were massive and the world was white, and i wanted to see it. Naturally, he wanted to do it, because that meant spending more time with me. (He is too good to me, that's one thing I hope you have figured out by now.) We bundled up and took off from our houses at college that were 50 yards away from each other. I'm fairly certain that every car that night stopped, that every person froze, and that the whole earth ceased any movement, except for the falling snow. It was perfect stillness. We ran and talked and caught snowflakes in our mouths, the whole time hearing the silent "crunch" of the snow beneath our shoes. We eventually reached a temple and discovered an open gate. The temple was lighted and we walked silently. I looked up and saw the snowflakes against the backdrop of white-washed mountains. For one second, I didn't analyze anything, I just took his hand and we kept walking. Neither of us said a word about it. 

Right then, I learned what love was. It didn't hit me like a ton of bricks and it wasn't even a realization I discovered at the moment. But in that moment, I wasn't holding someone's hand I was trying to impress. The games for us were over, which had never been the case with me. I was soaking wet and grinning like an idiot. My make-up was long gone and I had the circles of a tough exam under my eyes from the day before. My eyelashes and crazy hair were catching and holding the snowflakes, and he was brushing them away and laughing. He couldn't stop looking at me. In that moment, I was holding my best, best friend's hand, and it was as innocent as two five-year-old's on their way to Kindergarten for the first time. 

It was months before we started dating, but in that moment, I sure loved that boy.

The day we started dating was December 4, 2011. I randomly gave in, took a chance at something meaningful, and leaned over to kiss him. That night, all his friends tackled him with excitement when he got back to his dorm. I wasn't even sure myself what had happened, but I knew that he would never hurt me, that he made me laugh, that he loved me more than I knew someone could love another person, and that he made me want to be better.

He'd always let me get in football position and tackle him on campus, no matter who we were around, just because I'm a complete spaz and I like to tackle people.

I have the best double chin you've ever seen. I'd sometimes look at him and slowly sink my head back into my neck, just to watch him die laughing. 

His friends called him "whipped cream" because "he was so whipped." He'd just smile and kiss my forehead and absolutely agree.

He'd always roll his eyes when I commented on how pretty another girl was. "Pa---leassseee. I've got all I ever want, right here." Then he'd grab me and wrap me up.

Whenever I got a call from anyone, he thought it was his duty to kiss me while I was trying to have a conversation. He'd smile when I tried to pull away and then kiss me more and more and laugh as I tried so hard to focus on what was being said to me. I'd always hang up and drop the phone. 

He has the funniest falsetto voice.

We both have a desire to wear ugly thrift store clothes for the rest of our lives. He rocks white-trash 80's short shorts.

I wanted to lose weight and he wanted to gain weight. Our solution? I gave him piggybacks everywhere we walked. He burned less calories, I burned more, and we got lots of weird looks while we were at it.

We'd go shopping and he'd always bite his lower lip, look at me, look at the ground, struggle breathing a little, look at me again, let out a deep breath, and then just say, "Mmmhmm. Yup, get that." 

He'd always roll me up in a blanket and I'd squirm around in it. I was his little burrito and he thought he was so funny. 

We watched YouTube clips of the minions off of Despicable Me for at least 2 hours.

He loved to hold my hand, and we'd get a kick out of holding hands as awkwardly as possible and watching people's reactions. 

The last thing he said to me, through tears, before he left me, was: "Listen. I love you. I want you to be happy, and if that means being happy with someone else, then gosh...that's what I want for you." 

He's my better half, my partner-in-crime, my best friend. I'm convinced that we love each other more than most people experience in their whole life. 

Dating Rule #1: If you happen to meet someone who you love with every piece of your heart, don't you dare ever forget that. 

And that, my friends, is my fairy tale story.