One of the Crowd

9/20/2013 The Lady 2 Comments

“She just needed to screw her head on straight so that she could properly enjoy being young and female and as beautiful as she wanted to be.” -Austenland

I may have mentioned this before. I may have mentioned it one hundred times. I may have to mention one hundred times more. This place is not Provo. Provo is a literal buffet of attractive men. They were everywhere. One could not safely cross campus without catching sight of at least one heart-stopping sort of man. Here, however, a great deal of "weeding out" must be done and the men who would have been the average schmoes in Provo are now the hotshots here.

I happen to like average schmoes. Ever so much. Even amongst all the slick, gym-frequenting dapper Dans of Provo, I always went for the average guys. The one's who were easy to talk to, funny, and somewhat ruddy-faced. The average guys felt real and made me feel real, and I never had to combat the hordes of girls who were vying for the attention of all the other men.

But here, the hordes attack the average guys, and I never was the sort who had any desire to play a part in that madness. It is feasible that it is vanity to want to be a girl pursued rather than a pursuing sort of girl. But it is what it is.

Let's get to the point.

The Girth always has the a congregation of girls about him. They interrupt him while he studies (while I'm sitting strategically nearby) and sneak up on him from behind with awkwardly intimate hugs. Blech. I refuse to participate in that sort of tom-foolery.

Anyway, there have only been a few exchanges between The Girth and myself: a high-five, he stared at my bum once (thank you high heels), and we nearly sat next to each other in institute. Unfortunately, the last encounter was ruined by one of his many admirers. I got to our institute class before he did, but when he arrived, there was a multitude of empty seats. But, he hesitated behind me and asked if he could sit at my table, although he left a seat between us, using a recent cold as an excuse to keep some distance. I was about to turn to him and engage in some light conversation when this blonde piece came and sat between us, and then he was bombarded by another two or three girls with giggles and sympathy for his cold.

And once again, I said nary a word.

Con Amor,

The Lady