Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Cupid Is A Friggin' Tease

It happens every time. I get home from a long sojourn overseas and I sit around at home, moping all alone, lamenting the fact that I'm not still over the sea (well, over the ocean, I guess).

This time it's especially hard because I've had to leave one of the most beautiful, romantic cities in the world, where a particularly wonderful boy lives, and come back HERE - where it's not romantic, where there are no fresh baguettes (at least not the way the French make them), no deliriously delicious red wines, and while there may be many a wonderful boy, none of them are quite like the one over THERE.

It's true and painfully obvious, I'm smitten to the core. Right down to my bones. You may have heard that I am most unfortunately and arduously attached. And while I was so smitten that I extended my stay from three days to ten, met his parent (dad was around and in town as well), went on a little trip out the French countryside together, and made plans to return in October, I've got to snap out of it. Because? HELLO he lives in Paris and I live HERE. He's also not as ...enthusiastic as I am about writing or calling or staying in touch (really? is he REALLY that busy?) so I'm going to have to stop obsessively checking my email and messages and definitely stop jumping every time my phone rings the long distance ring because SIGH it's probably not going to work out.

All I have to say about this is: I REALLY hope that I'm wrong.
And also: Wah. Waaaahhh.