Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Addicted To The Rescuer

So...a few weeks have passed and I'm still obsessed with my crush and I've done very little about it because I really don't think it's real. Indulge me here people, while I explain a theory to you that Smarty and I came up with: I have a "thing" for "White Knights." This crush I developed? A result of being rescued in a time of need.

It's happened before. I've found myself in a bind, any bind, and the guy who ends up helping me out of it will most likely be co-starring in any number of my romantic fantasies. In them we have these happy lives where we do literary things, have a whole mess of kids, live in a fabulous brownstone in BK- the fantasy doesn't change, just the dude.

Therefore while I appreciate all of your kind, "Go for it, you never know" advice, I fear that I will always doubt my feelings for a man until I start to feel that way without a real reason. Did that make sense? Like, I need to feel those butterflies just because they're there and he's the bees knees, not because he swooped in and saved the day. He might as well have showed up in a firetruck in uniform and everything! I might've ended up pregnant that very night...

If I were in better financial standing and had my writing career where I wanted it to be and already lived in the home of my dreams...basically if I didn't NEED him, and still felt all smooshy inside, then dammit, that'd be my man and would absolutely pursue him. But as it stands my money is not just funny but freakin HILARIOUS and the Media Empire is still in its infancy. I'm too headstrong about my self-sufficiency to just let him be my for real Captain Save-A-Jaded.

I mean sure, when I hear from him my tummy does a loop-dee-loop. And sometimes I will stare at his pictures for no reason when I should be writing. And perhaps I admitted to Smarty that in my fantasies he and I don't even have sex and she said, "because you want something deeper and more intimate with him" and then I reached through BBM and slapped her down. None of it means I love him, so stop making assumptions.

Never mind that the thought of seeing him again sends me reeling because I need my hair, makeup, nails and outfit to be the perfect marriage of fabulosity and casualness, and therefore I have tiny panic attacks whenever I know he'll be around. Never mind all that, please, because never in my life- not since we last dated- have I been so freakin GIRLY! I usually go on dates wearing my blue suede Converse sneakers (somewhere in Leeds, Muireann sensed me writing that sentence and had a little heart attack) but with him, I want to be more, for lack of a better word, feminine.

Yet...I truly, madly, deeply think I only want him because he took pity on this crazy damsel in the middle of her woeful distress.

At least that's what I tell myself as I cower in the corner, too afraid to even speak to him.

*smooches...at peace with the fact that I'm a scaredy-cat*
I still have my books to keep me company in my old age. And you guys. You'll never leave me, right? RIGHT?