Crushing Once Again

Because who doesn’t always have some cutie on his or her mind?

That’s right. I’m crushing, and I’m crushing real hard. You know, you’d think it would get easier to deal with the feels as time went on, especially considering the fact that I’ve been boy-crazy literally my entire life. Like, I used to make family and friends and stuffed animals pretend to be my boyfriend and take me on “dates.” I used to get yelled at for staring at the attractive boys in the grocery store for too long. I used to try to assuage my mind from the monsters under my bed every night by thinking up “films” where I was starring as an adult who just so happened to meet the love of her life (most often Nick Carter) on that month’s trip to the beach or that morning’s daily run. Gosh darn it, my first (and, uh, only) real boyfriend was even when I was in kindergarten! And we dated for two years! Two years!!

I was bad.

Simply put, I was in love with boys and men and love and dating. And when I say in love, I mean in love. I was simply born with a soft spot for romantics and sexiness–as proven by the fact that the events of the last paragraph are basically all of my first memories of life itself. Yeah.

I’ve simply always had love on my mind, and I always will. For me, it’s natural and never going to go away.

But as I get older, even though my affinity for the opposite sex stays just as strong, my love of love is, oddly enough, changing quite a bit. Now, romance has become a little less “aw”-inducing and a little more, well:

Yes, romance is no longer as romantic as I once thought it was. Now, I’m simply in love with the idea of being in love. Everything in the films and on TV and in books and in my head is perfectly okay, but the thought of actually finding someone who loves me, too (who is not Barney), however, terrifies me, grosses me out, and makes me do like Lucy above. When thinking of being swept off my feet, I go completely blank for a second–and then suddenly get the urge to back away slowly into the corner and drop into the fetal position so I can silently rock and cry away reality.

For some reason, people liking me in a more-than-friends way just creeps me out, which definitely isn’t normal, I know, and is most certainly not helping out the fact that this single pringle is beyond ready to mingle. Like, if someone doesn’t come for me soon, I’m gonna go stale.

Okay, yeah, yeah, I know; pringles come in packs of 90 and therefore aren’t single.

But I have about 90 other single friends right now, which therefore does make me a pringle, and as we all know, I am single, so, therefore, my above analogy and its internal rhyme are correct: If I don’t find someone soon, I’mma end up like this:

Well, that plus really red eyes and a chronic cough and lots of hives cause I’m ridiculously allergic to cats.

It’s just a huge mess, I know! That’s why I’m here!

Although, I do like the girl’s glasses.

The point is, though, that there are so many beautiful boys in this world, and I am still so alone! I desperately want a relationship! I look around, and I see happy couples doing happy couple stuff, and I want it. I want to go on candlelight dinner dates and stay up late talking about life and run away for a weekend to the middle of nowhere and have sporadic picnics and receive cute texts every here and there…

But then it comes to the hand-holding, hugging, kissing, and general skin-ship part, and I, well, start making like Lucy again…

I just don’t like to be touched, okay! It’s simply a weird thing for me! But in a relationship, you’re kind of supposed to touch. I mean, that’s the whole point! So, uh, as we all know, I can’t have a real relationship if I don’t want my significant other touching me.

Which is why my future is looking very furry.

Ugggh, the struggle is too real…

Is this normal? Is this a sign that I’m going to be alone forever? Or is it a sign that I just haven’t met the one yet? Cause there are definitely guys out there who I would totally be okay getting jiggy with, like:

Orlando Bloom,

RDJ,

G Dragon,

James McVey,

young Leo,

Tom Hiddleston,

(THEM EYES, THOUGH)

Peter Pevensie,

(#SexyAngryPeter4Lyfe! Although his sister doesn’t seem to approve. Pshhh, whatever.)

Kevin Woo,

Torrance Coombs,

(“For being too sexy.”)

Beau Bennett,

And Jeon Jungkook, to name only a few.

(No judging, okay?)

But then there are the guys I meet in real life, the guys who I legitimately develop feelings for and want to spend the rest of eternity alongside but with whom, for some reason, I could never imagine myself getting romantic. Ever.

EVER.

And this is a problem, for I can bet you any money that I’m never going to meet any of my celebrity crushes, have one of them fall madly in love with me, and then end up marrying him. So, that leaves me with all of the adorably nerdy characters I know who are perfect for me personality-wise but who make me dry-heave when I think about getting even a kiss on the cheek.

Gah! Whatever am I going to do??

Am I hopeless? Or am I just being dumb?

Oh, I don’t know! I’m not going to give up, though. Maybe there’s someone out there for me, someone who isn’t a celebrity. Or maybe I’ll accidentally stumble into Orlando Bloom one day while wandering around campus. Or maybe Beau Bennett will coincidentally waltz on into the store I work at some time. Or maybe I’ll just so happen to stay at the same hotel as Jeon Jungkook. Maybe, one day, I will have one of my celebrity crushes.

Or maybe I’m simply destined to be

But, you know what? If that means I can have the crazy cat chick’s glasses as well as the freedom to do whatever the heck I want whenever the heck it please me (including, but not limited to, buying ridiculously expensive clothing just because, adopting all the Asian babies, writing seven billion novels, owning two labs, visiting each country in the world at least once, making my own major motion picture starring only Leonardo DiCaprio, hoarding dark chocolate, and singing k-pop/dancing around like a maniac to it all the time), then I’m game. Sure, being “forever alone” would very much so suck, but if that happens to me, I’ll just do as John Milton’s Satan did and make a Heaven out of Hell.

…And a Hell out of everyone else’s happily married Heaven, muahaha!

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