So, I have this umm…friend.
She met this man that she really really likes.
Makes perfect sense, right?
“I like you.
I obviously have the emotional maturity of a gerbal that’s preventing me from telling you that.
It seems I’m only able to convey my feelings through texts, blog posts, and the occasional Facebook status update as of late.
That means that unless I grow some cognizant balls quickly, you will probably never know how I feel and walk away.”
What the hell happened to you, Lau-, I mean, Lorraine? What happened to the girl who made herself a badge once that said, “The #1 Most Self-Aware Person in the World”? The girl who champions communication! Why is it, that upon being asked what she wanted out of their frequent rendez-vous, she immediately did an impression of a deer caught in headlights and proceeded to zero in on the soup she was eating and exerting all energy on drumming up a witty comment about the root vegetables in her meal?
I’m pretty sure she gave herself a good ass beating after that night. Yep.
Lorraine decided to contemplate the question I asked her in this post. She would have posted the answer here, but figured it would bring down the mood, and she didn’t want to do that. The short answer is that she blames her father, but knows there is only so much blame you can affix to others before one needs to start taking responsibility for themselves. And there is only so much you can drink before telling a person that you like them without them knowing that you had to drink beforehand because you were so f’ing nervous.
So no more vacant stares off into the horizon. No more shrug of the shoulders. No more holding your breathe.
Now it’s time to be a big girl.
Maybe you’re scared because for the first maybe, just maybe, you’re dealing with something real. Who knows?
Right, Lorraine?
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