Tuesday, October 11, 2011

I'm Boy Crazy.


Last week, I was talking to a male friend of mine who had the nerve to call me "boy crazy." And I said, "No! I'm not!" Then he said, "Yes, you are. Why else do you flirt with me?" And he was right. I flirt with him for attention. Also because he has a good face structure. But, still, mainly for the attention. Who doesn't like a lot bit of attention?

His comment really made me sit down and think about my life, which I tend to do when I'm alone.... or with people. And I realized, "How many conversations with your lady friends are about boys?" The answer to that is: Most of them. Mary's answer to that? All of them. To which my reply is, "Hey! Come on! Sometimes I talk about guacamole!"

OK. So. Yes. Conversations do revolve around boys. But... then I was randomly looking through the saved messages on my phone... and there were a few from boys only. Not one is from a girl! OK, there are two saved messages from a girl. But that girl is me and they're both passwords. One to an alarm system and one to a secret land in World of Warcraft. Or... a padlock. Anyways, the saved messages were something sweet and cute and flirty and/or terribly gross and disgusting but made me swoon anyway because I'm terribly gross and disgusting.

I don't know when this happened {as a teenager} but apparently I'm boy crazy now {slash have been forever.} I guess when you start crushing on living, talking human beings that you know with faces you can touch and not posters of people you've never met on your wall that are covered in Bonnie Bell-flavored kisses... well, your love life certainly spices right up. And when the spice gets stirred into the pot, you've got one heaping bowl of Boy Crazy!

Nope? That didn't work? I'll work on it.

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