So what do you do when you go visit a boy every Sunday for 4 weeks? Well obviously you like them enough that you think “let’s hang out” are good words to say and you give them your phone number. Like some weirdo, mushy, twelve year old.
To be fair (to myself), we talk for longer and longer each week but I don’t know if it’s because he’s too nice to do anything about it or if he’s reciprocating whatever. But it still makes me feel like some gross teenager with feelings.
Regardless, he now has my phone number and I’m sitting here waiting for him to do something about it I guess. It’s a little crazy to expect things to just… happen, like a John Green novel or one of those movies I hate.
No matter how many times I replay our conversations in my head though I always feel like it’s not what everybody seems to think it is? I sort of want the satisfaction of being able to say “I told you so” to everybody when he doesn’t text me or whatever. Which again, is a weird, crazy-person thing to say; to admit that “I told you so” gives me THAT much satisfaction. But it’d be a hell of a lot easier to say “I told you so” than to idk… face the fact that it’s a little heartbreaking that he hasn’t done anything (mind you in the last 12 hours since I’ve given him such phone number) or to admit that I indeed like him to the extent that if he does text me it’ll totally make my year.
After a string of unfortunate and annoying and stupid and careless and bad and insufferable mistakes over the past however-long, I sort of expect things to not go my way. But I sort of also expect them to go my way because that’s just fair right?
I take it back, Universe. That’s asking for trouble. I promise. I’ll be patient.
Oh and here’s a pretty picture for fall – found on tumlbr 🙂