My Fermenting Proverbial One

I foresee my proverbial-one-concept to be back in the trash bin as what my other pseudo-relationship obsessions turn out to be. Half of my friends attempt to humor me that what I aspire at this point is in GREAT impossibility (note that it’s in bold letters). I would ask them for logical reasons for their remark but they cannot even start to explain—well, they can’t even give plausible reasons. I’d stick with my denial.

Well, slowly I am realizing that this certain “like” is starting to wane. Besides the fact that I actually just humiliated myself a few days ago—thanks to liquor, I have given my friends the permission to kill me, in public if they wish. No other form of embarrassment can be greater to what I just did.

I, under the influence of brandy, declared unto him (through SMS that is) that I have the ‘thing’ for him. Damnit.

Up until now, I still ram my head against the wall to remind me of how stupid I am. And I do hope and pray (even if I don’t practice that anymore) that I didn’t scare him. Sh*t.

But in the midst of my cloud-nine-boredom-of-my-work, I still manage to daydream (oh, wait that’s one of my hobbies) about him. Le sigh, le sigh. Now, the song in my brain is the song being sung (whutttt redundancy) by Adam Sandler in the movie 50 First Dates...the one by the Beach Boys, Wouldn’t It Be Nice. Le sigh, le sigh again. I’ll be downloading that song in my iPod later.

How can I not stop thinking and daydreaming about him? Self-established; Famous for his works in multi-awarded films; again, a VERY intellectual person. Down-to-earth (corny); weird also; the thought of him gives me goose bumps. Now that’s freaky—perfect for me! I remember telling him during one of our chats that ‘normal’ guys pursue me, but they don’t interest me because I’m weird—an oddity that can be an abomination if paired and mixed with normal human beings with normal dispositions.

Le sigh, le sigh mon amour. Damnit.