needs more boys
Flist, I feel like I can tell you that this week is one of those awful, overly-hormonal weeks where I have nice and vaguely entertaining dreams about:
a) Hope Solo
b) random hockey players
c) a Younghusband. It doesn't matter which one, they kind of blend together in a blur of slanted, laughing eyes and broad shoulders.
Chicago, in the immortal words of Jillian Adona: Y U NO TAP THAT? By THAT, I mean ME, and by Chicago, I don't mean truck drivers.
Though it was quite a switch from being hit on by Filipino truck drivers, who show their approval by shouting vaguely complimentary things from their windows. No, this time, the truck driver was sitting beside me on a bench, and masked his agenda by asking me innocuous questions about commuting downtown. As you do.
While we were waiting for the train:
Him: You're very pretty.
Me: ...thank you?
Him: It's the first thing I noticed, when I saw you. You're really very cute.
Me: ...um. Thanks. :D?
Then the train came, and I beat my escape, only he followed me to where I was sitting, and we proceeded to have the following conversation:
Him: So, I was thinking, maybe we could go out on a date sometime?
Me: O.O
Him: ...or do you have a boyfriend?
Me: I HAVE A BOYFRIEND I'M SO SORRY.
Him: Or maybe just as friends?
Me: I don't think my boyfriend (the inventor of toaster strudel, I kid, I kid) would like that.
Him: Maybe I could get your number?
Me: Um, no. I live with my aunt, she's very strict. And I share a phone with my brother, who doesn't like it when I give out my number.
So instead, he gave me his number. Thank god I have a bunch of fake names, so I gave him one of those. I am just hoping never to bump into him on a train again. Good god.
Today, I found out that this hockey player I had a crush on when I first came here brought a girl to a baseball game. In a stunning turn of events, she is a) fake blond, b) fake tanned, and... c) in possession of what I believe to be fake breasts. This is why I think I'll never have a chance with a professional athlete, because all their laaadyfraaands all fit this same mold. The fake one. I'm not being a hater, I'm just telling it like it is.
My life needs more real boys. In the words of Juno MacGuff:
I was thinking more, like, graphic designer... mid thirties, you know, with a cool Asian girlfriend who, like, dresses awesome and rocks out on the bass guitar. But I don't want to be too particular.
By Asian girlfriend, I mean me. And instead of rocks out on the bass guitar, I mean, geeks out over books and comics. I could rock that.
I just. I just have stupidly high standards. It's easy to find a bunch of people who fit the mold physically. But does he make me laugh? Does he read the same books? Does he listen to interesting music? Will we come home to each other, collide like magnets in our warm nestbed and listen to tomorrow's birds outside our window?
Yes, yes, yes, oh baby, yes.
Anyway. If anyone's reading this, let's talk about you. How are you? What have you been up to lately?
---
Drawings of men with faithful hands
They will make such good boyfriends
a) Hope Solo
b) random hockey players
c) a Younghusband. It doesn't matter which one, they kind of blend together in a blur of slanted, laughing eyes and broad shoulders.
Chicago, in the immortal words of Jillian Adona: Y U NO TAP THAT? By THAT, I mean ME, and by Chicago, I don't mean truck drivers.
Though it was quite a switch from being hit on by Filipino truck drivers, who show their approval by shouting vaguely complimentary things from their windows. No, this time, the truck driver was sitting beside me on a bench, and masked his agenda by asking me innocuous questions about commuting downtown. As you do.
While we were waiting for the train:
Him: You're very pretty.
Me: ...thank you?
Him: It's the first thing I noticed, when I saw you. You're really very cute.
Me: ...um. Thanks. :D?
Then the train came, and I beat my escape, only he followed me to where I was sitting, and we proceeded to have the following conversation:
Him: So, I was thinking, maybe we could go out on a date sometime?
Me: O.O
Him: ...or do you have a boyfriend?
Me: I HAVE A BOYFRIEND I'M SO SORRY.
Him: Or maybe just as friends?
Me: I don't think my boyfriend (the inventor of toaster strudel, I kid, I kid) would like that.
Him: Maybe I could get your number?
Me: Um, no. I live with my aunt, she's very strict. And I share a phone with my brother, who doesn't like it when I give out my number.
So instead, he gave me his number. Thank god I have a bunch of fake names, so I gave him one of those. I am just hoping never to bump into him on a train again. Good god.
Today, I found out that this hockey player I had a crush on when I first came here brought a girl to a baseball game. In a stunning turn of events, she is a) fake blond, b) fake tanned, and... c) in possession of what I believe to be fake breasts. This is why I think I'll never have a chance with a professional athlete, because all their laaadyfraaands all fit this same mold. The fake one. I'm not being a hater, I'm just telling it like it is.
My life needs more real boys. In the words of Juno MacGuff:
I was thinking more, like, graphic designer... mid thirties, you know, with a cool Asian girlfriend who, like, dresses awesome and rocks out on the bass guitar. But I don't want to be too particular.
By Asian girlfriend, I mean me. And instead of rocks out on the bass guitar, I mean, geeks out over books and comics. I could rock that.
I just. I just have stupidly high standards. It's easy to find a bunch of people who fit the mold physically. But does he make me laugh? Does he read the same books? Does he listen to interesting music? Will we come home to each other, collide like magnets in our warm nestbed and listen to tomorrow's birds outside our window?
Yes, yes, yes, oh baby, yes.
Anyway. If anyone's reading this, let's talk about you. How are you? What have you been up to lately?
---
Drawings of men with faithful hands
They will make such good boyfriends