Asking out boys went exactly the way I expected it to. Badly, awkwardly, and only barely without fainting or crying. Just like when Ryan reminds me to breathe during training, so did I need to be reminded here
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I sort of feel I'm the opposite. I obviously loves them, but secretly, I am plotting their doom. I guess he just thinks that this is a big deal. I'm the one who's actually hurt, but I also know this is such a non-story. I mean, he already knew I liked him. So technically speaking, absolutely nothing is different today from yesterday before noon, other than I have actually uttered the words "me/i", "interested", and "you", in some form of conjunction. I thought I was the 15 year old girl, but in reality, it may be him. Or maybe I actually smell, and that's why he's trying to avoid me? Dude, I hope I don't smell.
see, this is the stupid shit scott pulled on me... when we were 18. he was all flirtyflirtyloveylovey until i said something and then was like Mr. Stoic Retreat From Reality Man, and i swore i'd never get involved with one again. i did some flirtyflirty with another one later, but that didn't last and didn't hurt as much. that's been pretty much it. and look where they are now.
Why is none of it an issue if your car breaks down? I sympathize 110% with the feeling of being crazy about someone and yet so sincerely wishing to DESTROY. What good is his southern politeness if he can't collaborate with you on a little mutual deception?
None of it is an issue if my car breaks down because I won't be able to get to the gym period, and the decision of whether or not to fabricate some elaborate plot of avoidance will be moot. I will certainly be giving the appearance of retreat whether I wish it or not.
What good is his southern politeness if he doesn't throw it aside and fuck me against a wall has always been my question, but one I'll probably never ask him.
Well, you could have been more slick about it than saying, "Guess what? I like you!" and then running off red-faced. I mean, at least write something in his yearbook next time.
I was slightly more slick than writing in his yearbook. (Wouldn't that be awful. Then he'd have this yearbook with a terrible confession and it would haunt him.) But you're one to talk, mr. I'm going to stalk you over the internet and slowly wile my way into your affections. That your success rate is higher doesn't make you any less dorky.
... if you like, I can try and beat him. I will doubtlessly lose, but I flail against him mightily with all my growling snarkiness that he dared be such a stupid doofus.
If you accidentally hurt yourself flailing against his facade I would be upset, so you shouldn't do it. In reality, I am the bad one, because I knew there would be consequences and I ignored them in favor of making myself feel better. And this is great, because the endless pining had gotten really boring. Now there's games of avoidance and "where to put my eyes that is not in your direction? even though I'm walking straight towards you?" Gotta keep life at the gym entertaining.
This sounds like it could be some odd sort of social combat video game. You should market it to the Sims, make millions and laugh at him from the comfort of your private gym and small army of personal trainers who vie for the privilege of being accosted in the locker room.
That sucks, quite a bit. I suppose when I am reading to catch up on friends pages, I should read all the way to the end before making good luck comments. Retroactive good luck does very few people any good :<
Anyhow, hugs for Dorian, and if I come back into town after graduating and before work, we will engage in fun things, possibly like walking or hiking which are also exersize, and therefore relieve you of the need to go to the gym.
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why does this particular flavor of male exist? they provide NOTHING to the human race. how do they continue to recur throughout history? fuckers.
we hates them. even tho we secretly loves them.
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I guess he just thinks that this is a big deal. I'm the one who's actually hurt, but I also know this is such a non-story. I mean, he already knew I liked him. So technically speaking, absolutely nothing is different today from yesterday before noon, other than I have actually uttered the words "me/i", "interested", and "you", in some form of conjunction.
I thought I was the 15 year old girl, but in reality, it may be him.
Or maybe I actually smell, and that's why he's trying to avoid me? Dude, I hope I don't smell.
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What good is his southern politeness if he doesn't throw it aside and fuck me against a wall has always been my question, but one I'll probably never ask him.
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oh my god!! you're right! you're brilliant!!!
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Well, fine, you're right. I'm dorky too, just in a shadier and more manipulative way.
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Love you.
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And this is great, because the endless pining had gotten really boring. Now there's games of avoidance and "where to put my eyes that is not in your direction? even though I'm walking straight towards you?" Gotta keep life at the gym entertaining.
Love you!
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I'm sorry he's being a putz. *hugs*
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Anyhow, hugs for Dorian, and if I come back into town after graduating and before work, we will engage in fun things, possibly like walking or hiking which are also exersize, and therefore relieve you of the need to go to the gym.
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