the Boy. How do I even begin to describe the Boy? My taste in men is very . . . traditional. Yeah, traditional. Let’s run with that. Slender but toned. Healthy, you could say. In high school I wanted the quarterback; talk about unoriginality for sobbing out loud.
But the Boy’s different. It isn’t rooted in the physical. A first for me. That makes me shallow, yes. But let’s be honest, we gays have our stereotypes for a reason.
Anyway the physical isn’t as important. It’s there — Lord knows it is. But it’s not important this time and I don’t know why. It’s driving me crazy. His presence is intoxicating, one conversation with him elates me, brings my whole day up. And I have no idea why. It’s maddening. Devolving into a 12 year old girl every time he walks by.
[Not to knock 12 year old girls -- My cousin is about to turn 13, and she's been in more long-term relationships than I have]
It sucks that I can’t keep my composure around him. It sucks even more not knowing why. So I approach the entire situation with the following philosophy:
Don’t Feed The Animals
When you go to the zoo, they have these signs that are all like, ‘Hey don’t feed the animals.’ And they say that because they have the animals all trained and on a schedule. And you come in, with your zoo books looking-ass, all wanting to throw your gummi bears at the lions, and for all you know, lions could be allergic to gummi bears. You don’t know. Overall, it’s just a bad idea to feed the animals. Right?
That’s the kind of thinking that runs through my mind when it comes to the Boy. I know at certain times I will I see the Boy, and I don’t try to fuck with the schedule. I don’t feel like I should encourage or nurture this ‘crush.’ I hate the word ‘crush.’ But I feel like forcing interaction with him would be a lot like feeding the animals. Don’t try to forge something that shouldn’t happen. Oh, spaz is me. Have I forgotten to mention the boy is of the hetero persuasion? Much like the quarterback in high school. But alas, I don’t want to feed the animals. I don’t.
He loves me not.
