I haven't liked a guy in a long long time. Liked in that way. You know, the passionate, firey, makes-you-go-weak-in-the-knees way. Liked beyond general liking. Liked so much so that thoughts of him can fill up all the gaps in my every day thought process. Liked enough to want to spend more and more and more time with him. Liked such that I can feel butterflies popping in my stomach when he is around.

I am starting to get worried about myself. No, the dreamy lift guy does not count. He was a one minute thing. And I never saw him again. Had I seen him and had we had a sex-in-the-city sorta ask-me-out-in-the-lift moment, there could have been a chance I would not be worrying right now. But it did not happen. And I am worrying. So what is the problem? Am I turning gay? Are my standards too high? Have I been looking too horrible lately? Is the wall too high to let anyone peek in? Fine, the wall doesn't count. You need to know your way over and through it. And it's not rocket science, trust me.

I miss the i-like-that-guy feeling. I mean I have eye candys and all that. But someone more real than that. Aaaaaa. I feel sorry for this blog. All it gets is my rambling and ranting. Poor blog.