"And pictures of perfection, as you know, make me sick and wicked"

2/08/2012 The Closer 2 Comments

I know that you have been chomping at the bit to know what happened with Happy McSmiles. Oh boy do I have a story for you, probably not the one you are expecting though. Last week when I showed up at Place for my weekly shift, I was totally psyched to potentially run into him again. I say potentially because it requires a lot of luck mixed with a little skill to work my way into the same room as him for more than thirty seconds. Last week while I was working away and day dreaming about running into Happy, I got hypothetically slapped in the face when none other than Mr. Perfect walked in. You don't know who Mr. Perfect is, because I haven't told you, because I thought he was out of the picture and I was no longer twisted in twitterpation over him.

Mr. Perfect is this guy I met early last year, and we completely hit it off. He was handsome and charming and tall and funny and smart and kind and so easy and fun to be around. We talked for several hours that first night and he ended things with an "I'd love to see you again" and getting my number. Atta' boy. I went home that night on cloud nine-thousand.

Long story short, (as I found out in my round-about-stalker-way) complications arose when an old girlfriend of his cropped back up and we only went on one date like two months later (that I thought was amazing) and then [beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep] flat-lined. I was all tied up in knots over that boy for far too long, over far too little, and finally was able to leave it alone. Victory. That was of course until he decided to rudely appear in the midst of me waiting to be re-smitten by another man.

Side note: In my also round-about-accidental-stalker/we-have-several-mutual-friends kind of way, I knew that things were done for real with his ex, and he'd even dated another girl for a month or so, and was now single again. I had chosen not to care because I was not about to go down that road again.

It was easy to feel that way because I had been able to avoid associating with him, and then I saw him, and he was handsome and charming and tall and funny and smart and kind and so easy and fun to be around all over again. Seeing him brought back this huge rush of feelings that I had stomped into nothingness, or so I thought. It sort of felt like the blood drained out of every part of body and all rushed to my face. I managed to appear cool and collected, maybe even clever, but inside was a flurry of bells and alarms. I felt totally absurd for having such a reaction, especially because our entire interaction was ten minutes tops.

After he was gone I tried to realign my senses and went back to eagerly waiting to see Happy McSmiles. Then I did. But after the cyclone of emotion that Mr. Perfect had brought on, my excitement was next to completely deflated.

Mr. Perfect had ruined Happy McSmiles!

Oh the INJUSTICE!

Luckily me seeing Happy was more like a passing hello, so hopefully next week with my regained equilibrium, I will be excited about him all over again. The rest of that night was spent with me being thoroughly irritated at Mr. Perfect for always ruining everything.

...But mostly just irritated at him for not being madly in love with me.

Yours Truly,

The Closer

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2 comments:

The Lady said...

Blast those men!

Anonymous said...

Ouch.