Liking Someone is Teh Suck

I’ve recently met someone I actually like. This is an incredibly unusual occurrence for me in recent years. I’ve met people I’ve been attracted to. I’ve met people with whom I enjoy spending time. I’ve met people who make me laugh. Still, that perfect storm that causes those crazy/mushy/hopeful/ridiculous sentiments has been absent.

After what seems like a perpetual cycle of lukewarm dating experiences, I am surprised to find myself legitimately engrossed in the character of one particular individual. It’s completely unnerving.

The feelings don’t run terribly deep. We’ve only hung out a couple times—and, due to extraneous circumstances, our interactions will inevitably end soon—but it’s prompted something more than I’ve encountered in awhile.

I am used to having this sense of control over my dating situations. It’s not that I’ve lost all of my faculties over this guy. However, I am finding myself parsing conversations for subtext, analyzing his actions and reconsidering my own—general nervous, school-girl behavior one exhibits upon developing a crush. All of this is absolutely unnecessary especially taking into consideration the fact that this guy is one of the most straightforward people I’ve ever met. The situation is completely devoid of the weird games and tactics that usually come with the dating scene. Regardless, the over-thinking, silly stupidity has reared its foolish little head and it sucks.

It’s not even that the feelings are unreciprocated; he seems to genuinely like me. I just find myself actually looking forward to seeing him, and my mind does that terrible wandering thing where I find it flitting over thoughts of him without any conscious direction on my part—it’s gross. I like to think that I’ve become relatively unflappable in my interactions with members of the opposite sex, but something about this boy seems to have struck my Achilles’ heel.

It’s not a dire situation by any means, but it’s as bit uncomfortable knowing that someone has even the slightest ability to impact my pragmatic, empirical outlook on romance. It makes me feel awkwardly fifteen again. Some people live for this feeling. They love the dizzy high brought on by infatuation. Those people are crazy. Still, I guess there is really nothing to do at this point, nothing but to embrace this inconvenient giddiness and hope that I make it out with my delightful cynicism still intact.