I though I was supposed to stop having crushes once I were all grown up and mature, that crushes were childish and therefore would be naturally abandoned with a coming of age/initiation party. Which apparently is not the case for I am a twenty-one-year-old, slightly stalker-like, very obsessed girl.
The thing about having a crush is that it is incredibly frustrating. It must be some sort genetical condition that allows us to only ever have crushes on people that are so far removed from our reality to be absolutely and utterly unreachable and untouchable. Unnerving. And irritating. My latest target is none other than a super-popular, totally gorgeous movie star. I mean, SERIOUSLY? What am I, two? And before you ask.. No, I’m not going to tell you who that is. I’ve already embarrassed myself enough and I intend to keep my last shreds of dignity close to me (if there’s actually any left at all).
I have spent the last couple of days daydreaming like a teenage freak and following the person on every social media available (taking the precautionary measure to add a couple of plausibly fake accounts to my list as well, just to be on the safe side). Honestly, poor poor guy. It’s humiliating the way I can still do this kind of things. And potentially sad. And reputation-damaging. A complete act of self-distruction in the long term.
When I eventually wake up from this obsessive-compulsive trance I have fallen into (a moment which I sincerely hope will come soon, and that will be welcomed with loads of heart-warming chocolate chips cookies), I will realise the problem is the outright absence of a suitable candidate for the leading male role in my life. Woeful but true. So if you happen to see a breath-takingly, heart-breakingly, jaw-droppingly handsome man walking down the street, who gives you the impression of being also smart, fun, passionate about things and a art/music/book-lover, could you please give him my phone number? (Yeah, like that is likely to happen..)
Honestly though, am I being very unreasonable and silly? Are my expectations way too high? Am I too picky? Or am I just the most unlucky, miserable girl in the universe?
23 Arbury Road 