Every so often, I'm reminded that I need to seriously loosen up.
This falls under Unrequited tag. You may remember it from such moving epistles of prose as Cute Guy In Class That I Discovered Was in the Army and Prompty Discovered Hormonal Attraction and earlier, Oh My God I Have a Crush, What the Hell?
Okay, and just for your own warning; those titles are far more interesting than anything that actually happened.
Continuing the glorious story of my inability to deal with sudden, inexplicable attraction, I got through my last days of school (WITH AN A. HELL YES) and didn't even look at him too much, and deliberately dressed badly. I even tied my hair up unattractively and did not powder. I was ready. I was--kind of crazy, really. But whatever. During lab, we traded amused looks and I completely ignored him and finished up, only to discover, yes, I do in fact share this exact class with him next semseter. Well, not this class, but the one that comes after.
And I totally put him out of my mind, because hello, one, too young (probably), long term girlfriend (definitely) and I don't even need a three, see one and two! But by God, this would not interfere with the stages of a crush. Though it would be easier if I could remember his name. *hazards* Maybe Nate.
Last night I had a dream.
A dream I was on a motorcycle. With him.
And for some reason, we were making out (this is actually embarrassing. I'm a freaking slash writer who dreams of kissing someone. There's no level that this doesn't make me feel twelve) and I, I was constantly saying "But you have a girlfriend!" and trying to get away.
...what the hell is up with that? I woke up feeling guilty. And vaguely uncomfortable. And really tired, too. Because let me tell you, balancing a motorcycle is not easy when one is fending off attractive advances.
Please send me lipgloss for my trauma. Or hell, a psychologist. No human should wake up feeling guilty that they made out with a figment of their imagination.
I'm pretty sure I could write all about Rodney yelling he wants to take it like a little bitch while John wanders around in assless chaps singing Oklahoma with less embarrassment than this moment.
This has got to end or I am going to do something drastic. If I knew what that should be, I would totally do it, too. Right now
As to the dream - and here was me thinking my brain is a strange place...
Thanks!
*thoughtful*
I am currently desperately fending off a crush that is--god. So inappropriate on so many, many levels. First off, he eerily resembles my father's brother. It's not, like, twins or anything, but there's a resemblance. And yet, he is still dry-your-mouth-out attractive. To me.
And it gets worse because he is, you know, married. I can't even just, you know, avoid him or anything because he is in my martial arts club and I mean, I like him beyond the stupid crush because he is, in fact, a cool guy and just. I have it under control but I seriously have contemplated brain surgery. I can just remove the offending glands, right?
I am going to go back to panicking over Christmas and/or writing some kind of horrifying fic just to feel better about myself. I'll share if I do!
Seriously. What was evolution thinking?????
It gets worse because, hey, *I* am effectively married. It's--we're sort of poly in that we are both poly by nature but the relationship is mostly monogamous and. It's just one more reason why this is the stupidest crush ever.
I think it's actually more horrifying because it's not a hundred percent insane. *headdesk* I am okay with randomly appreciating the hot, you know, but the crush? Augh, the crush horrifies me. I AM IN MY TWENTIES I AM SUPPOSED TO BE PAST THIS NONSENSE.
She's married and really really religious and also one of my best friends.
WHAT THE HELL, HORMONES?
(I have some scary dreams, if they will make anybody feel better. Nobody's brain is weirder than mine.)
I'm laughing so hard my stomach hurts. :) Glad I've been around long enough to get that reference. *pets you* Yeah. The crush and then the guilt dream. I totally get it. Leads to infidelity and plotting to murder the significant other who stands in the way of your BLISS. Run, Jenn. Flee! Or, you know, take it all out on a new fic. But don't kill the other woman. That way lies a prison sentence. Not that you were leaning that direction. Just sayin'.
As a followup, I wouldn't watch "Strangers on a Train" anytime soon. NO, no, no.
I want a coo-ooo-oool rider
I want a coo-ooo-oool rider
If he's cool enough,
he'll burn me through and through.
If it taaa-aa-akes forever,
then I'll waa-aa-ait forever.
No ordinary boy,
no ordinary boy is gonna do,
I want a rider that's cool.
With aviator sunglasses!
Seriously, I wrestled him to a bed just to use him as a pillow. I'm still disgusted with myself.
At least you were on a motorcycle. :)
I double-dog dare ya. I *triple*-dog dare ya. (then we get someone to do the illustrations ....)