This is precisely why I started this blog. I feel as though things like this don’t happen to normal people. I don’t think that I am normal — I think that there is something quite wrong with me. I talk to strangers. Ok, this man is not quite a complete stranger… but he does live across the country and I haven’t seen him for years.
So… this guy, I knew of in college, and when I say knew of, I mean I knew his name and who he was but knew nothing about him, well he RANDOMLY messages me on Facebook. Did I mention that he was a senior when I was a freshman? So yes, it has been some time since I have seen him at all, not that I ever even hung out with him in college. Well, he messages me about an article I posted on my Facebook wall. We got to talking and he gave me his number, and then we started texting.
It was an interesting night to say the least…. That same night I had a guy from high school also message me on Facebook and try and convince me to try LSD. I have never done any drugs and don’t ever plan to… and well, we ended up getting in this heated debate about drugs and how they improve your quality of life. My argument was that they don’t improve your quality of life; he begged to differ…
ANYWAYS… enough about my awkward argument with the druggie. Back to the New Yorker.
We texted a bit and a few weeks later texted a bit more…and then one afternoon he picked up the phone and called me. We talked for two hours…. And now I think I am love. I’m packing my bags and I’m moving to New York.
See you west coast!
I’m exaggerating… maybe.
Maybe I’m not.
I’m being dramatic. I barely know the guy.
But I haven’t had someone actually give me butterflies in a long time. It’s the girl moment when you start over thinking every text, second guessing if he thinks you’re weird, and reading back things he has said. I hate being a girl. I hate emotions. I hate trying to pretend like I am smooth. I am not smooth. I am awkward. I am weird. And now I am over thinking everything.
Deep breathes now. SLOW YOUR ROLL.
The good thing is that he is weird. Just like me. Sends me random pictures of dogs, cats, Minions, the food he is eating, and goofy pictures of him and his friends. Thats kind of what I look for in a man. Requirement #1: make me laugh. When my friends ask me about him they say “What did the New Yorker send you today?” It’s always something different. He’s funny, kind, driven, weird, and seems pretty fun. I feel like it’s meant to be.
I’m having an After Christmas, Christmas Party and I invited him. Hey it doesn’t matter if he is a million miles away. You never know. Crazier things have happened. But guess what? He just happens to be on the west coast the same weekend (nowhere near me though). He said he would come if he didn’t have this business meeting. BUT I did invite him on Facebook. And because Facebook is reality and everything that happens in Facebook world is a glimpse into what is true in our real lives…. he is MAYBE coming to my After Christmas, Christmas Party. Why, you ask? Because you said he was MAYBE attending on Facebook. Man I hope he just randomly shows up… that would be amazing. I would die. I would wet my pants or have awkward word vomit or gnaw off all my finger nails from nerves/excitement. And I am pretty sure my butterflies would then turn into pterodactyls, escape from my stomach, and act like blind bats knocking over every object in sight or running into the same wall over and over again expecting it to move.
photo cred: http://amorphia-apparel.com/design/pter/
photo cred: Getty Images