Ahem.

I'minlovewithMichael!

I went to the store tonight, and he initiated a conversation, and I didn't do what I usually do, which is blush, smile, make short answers to his questions, then scurry away before I swoon into a puddle of Miss Black. I engaged in a lengthy discussion of classes, work, and plans for the summer. Eee! He was so sleepy-cute, his eyes were all droopy and his smile was so tired. He said he'd been at school all day and at work all night, so he really needed a nap. I thought about offering up MY bed, but I thought that might be a bit forward. He told me that he's a business major, which doesn't do anything for me at all, but yay for exchanging personal info! Whoopee!

Now, I'm a big ball of giddy smitten-ness. Seriously, dudes. It's pretty disgusting. I feel like a silly high school girl again. Eeee! I want to MAAAARRY him, and move to a beachhouse in Brazil, where he can work at a local market during the day, and I'll spend my time drinking margaritas and writing on the beach, waiting for him to come home. Then we'll fall together, his crisp white work shirt a burden under my fingers, our skin hot and bronzed from the sun, mouths panting...

Whoa.

My brain just won't stop sometimes.

Miss Black

Listening to: "Delicate" by Damien Rice.

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Miss Black also contributes to a David Anders/Sark site under the name Chaton Espion. Feel free to visit her there if you'd like to witness the terrifying depths of obsession.