Artificially Distressed

Like a pair of jeans. So.

I like someone and this is new for me. It’s been four years since I admitted to myself that I wasn’t 100% straight. Since then, I’ve buried any spark of attraction I felt under guilt, fear, and paranoia. Hell, I had myself half convinced that I was asexual. Then she shows up in my life.

I’m not ready for her. She’s got these eyes, and this smile, and her *hands*. I could have shrugged it off easy if she’d only stayed quiet. But she’s smart and funny, half confident, half cocky. She’s got a filthy mouth and a chip of her shoulder, and I. Just. Stare.

She makes me flustered. I’m never flustered! I can’t talk to her, and I’m the type that will talk about anything to anyone. And yet when I’m around her I can’t put two words together. Either that or I babble incoherently in ways that I will cringe about for days after.

She’s a friend of a friend, and after our first meeting I have no way of contacting her. I nurse a tiny crush for a little while, and despite my friends pressuring me to find a way to see her I decide to move on. She’s out of my league anyway. It’s nice to know that I can feel attraction to someone not on the TV screen, but that’s that. But apparently it’s not my shot to call.

I’m out with a friend when I bump into her again. My brain runs for cover. She beams as she greets me and insists we exchange phone numbers. I do my best to seem sober and coherent but manage to sound like a concussed drunk. She doesn’t seem to notice, waves goodbye as I drag my friend in the opposite direction. My friend is in awe of the level of retardation I've achieved. She mocks me and tries to convince me that getting in touch with Terrifying Gay Crush would not actually kill me.

I do get in touch. It takes me about a month to get over being completely chickenshit, but I do it. I send her an sms, and try very hard not to be crushed when I don’t get a reply. A week later, she answers. She’d like very much for us to hang out but unfortunately she’s out of the country. We exchange a few friendly (flirty?) messages, before she says that when she gets back ‘all of us’ should get together sometime in Ramadan. I’m not disappointed, baby steps, right?

I wait two weeks, because I’m not a stalker. I mention the possibility of plans. She apologizes that she’s swamped. I ramble disjointedly (yes, in a message, it’s a gift), hopefully conveying similar circumstances and that we could do something some other time. She tells me to check with Mutual Friend and let her know. It seems like a brush off. So I’m assuming that I did come off as a creepy desperate stalker and I need to back the fuck off.

I suck at this.