today i’m wet just thinking about it.

because he’s one of those guys that gives you butterflies somewhere besides your stomach. he’s a godlike being, perfection delivered in a rock hard, 6’4, 210lb package. and he lives with me. i cook for him, i wash his underwear, i sleep three feet away. and he likes me. maybe. he’s one of those people that treats everyone the same, and im one of those people that neeeeds to be treated differently. but it’s all so preliminary. or he’s either taking it really slow or he’s uninterested. i don’t know. we need more time alone. i need a move.

***: you have to marry the *******.
me: he doesn’t like me.
***: oh he does. thats what i was just teasing him about in spanish. he thinks you’re really hot.
me: i’m not grown up enough to be liked.
***: oh you are. but you have to go rockclimbing and stuff with us.
me: i know…

but i don’t want to be “really hot”. i rather that conversation go like this.

***: you have to marry the *******.
me: he doesn’t like me.
***: he thinks you’re really special and smart and funny and better looking than anyone he’s seen before or will ever see.
me: oooh
***: ill sleep at mom’s tonight so you guys can hook up.
me: yeah, okay.

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