Perfection chose me

[ny_giants_dad]

I talk to myself sometimes. It's the way I process things that confuse me, or intimidate me, or anger me, or thrill me. I have to talk myself through emotional situations, else my brain short circuits. I'm socially awkward. I like to tell myself that it's because I'm so incredibly intelligent that my mind doesn't grasp normal social cues. I'm sure the reason is less about my intelligence and more about some personality flaw in an undeveloped area of my brain. But the reason for it has little to do with my point. As does any of this opening paragraph, save that I talk to myself. Quite a lot.

Do you know how I know you love her?

- How?

Because you smile every time you think about her.




And I'm not talking about a "pose for the camera" smile; no, it's more like an "ear-to-ear, you look like a goof, chills on your skin, giddy, silly, heart in your throat, you've lost all dignity and self-respect as you stumble all over yourself, flushed face, sweaty palms, speechless, couldn't hide it if you tried" smile.

- I can't help it.  What she does to me defies logic.  I let her blow my mind.

It's a good look on you.




- I think we annoy everyone on Facebook with all our pictures and professions of love.

People don't like it when other people are happy.

- Happiness is a Snickers bar and a Coke.  They haven't invented a word for this.

So, you plan to stay here a while?

- Forever, if she'll have me.




Do you know how I know you love her?

- How?

Because you're smiling again.