Have you SEEN me?

Formerly Not So Much. . .the daily musings of a 26-year-old PYT whose self-love is superceded only by her obnoxiously endearing ability to remind you at all times just how fabulous she is. Guys too stupid to realize how lucky they are to be graced with her presence? Woman with 4-pack abs climbs onto the elliptical trainer next to her? Arrives at Chick-Fil-A at 10:37, only to learn she has missed her opportunity for a chicken biscuit? She throws all these setbacks off with disdain. . .after all, have you SEEN her??

Friday, July 30, 2004

Oh Where Have You Gone, the Fabulously Raucous Miss Have You. . .?

I've been relatively silent about the whole TJ situation for the last few days.  I threw up a few blog posts about how confused I was and how unreal everything seemed, and then put a few friends on guard about their well-intentioned and sound advice.  (Didn't mean to come off like a jerk, Miss O, but then, we've had that conversation. . .so no worries.)  Honestly, I've been perpetually silent for a number of reasons, not the least of which is my caution about unveiling my life and things that REALLY matter to me on a blog, to be read by a lot of people, to be evaluated and judged, and then to be possibly mocked or laughed out of hand when the person who responded to my "love" poll "Are you crazy??  Do you really think you could be in love with flowers guy?" hears that things went South.  There's the overriding public concern about "feeling" stupid, even though the vast majority of you don't know me, and the ones who do don't think I'm stupid, but it's not just that:  I am more concerned with enjoying this ride than gossiping, bragging, pontificating, or otherwise publishing my thoughts about it. 

I am supremely happy.  I do think this guy is amazing.  And he thinks he has really lucked out and is not going to let me get away.  I do share those thoughts with my close friends.  Otherwise, though, I just have a spring in my step, a knowing smile, a glow in my complexion.  People know that something is afoot, but hell. . .the devil's in the details.  What does it matter?

Honestly also, this guy is so good, and the things he does and says so perfect (for me, although maybe not for Lemon, who hates getting flowers at work), that I've reached a point where a) I realize I can't relay it without sounding like a lovesick fool who unfairly and unrealistically glamorizes relationships, and b) no one would believe me anyway.  He really does convey himself to me in a manner only adopted by lunatics or people who are really, truly (maybe) falling in love.  Well, I hope that my friends, and even my readership, know better, that I'm not generally one to look at relationships through Rose colored glasses:  even if you've just been reading this blog since I started it, it should be clear that I find men, in general, to be as disposable as my Acuvue Dailies.  I swore off adopting "one" for a "boyfriend" some time ago.  Why have one when you can have five? 

I'm a changed Miss Have You.  I only want this one.  (I can't believe I'm saying this.  What kind of sick trick is he playing on me!?!)  Seriously though, he's a light.  Not just a mirror.

(Of course, if he hurts me, I'll go back to my old ways.  It might be more interesting from a blogging perspective, but. . .don't wish that upon me.  This guy makes me want to settle down.)

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