FUCK!

Oi!

To be sure, it's been a while (not that anyone is paying attention). My computer has been busted since shortly after my last post, and I am still without the funds to have it repaired. Granted, I could clearly have been doing this all summer, but I find this method of blogging to be somewhat distasteful. "This method" being that of blogging at the library. I prefer my privacy. But! Somethings should just be expunged, and this is the most effective way to make that happen. Worst case, I'll keep it up here for the time being (shudder).

Unfortunately, I have nothing of any import to say. That is, I have stuff to say, but none of it is important. In my opinion. Politics is important. Even cultural stuff is important (go see Stardust and buy the new Get Set Go. Do it now). My petty bullshit issues aren't. This is something I consider a truism. So bear with me, because women are insane, and I hate everyone.

Now that that's cleared up, let's talk, just a little, about the issues at hand.

I, personally, happen to be a huge Anglophile. Now, I'm not quite at the level I would be at if had disposable income, but as it stands, I adore the British. I find their slang amusing and I adore their comedy and music (This is the extremely short version of my rapt interest in, well, anything that the British Isles have produced).

This principle carries over extremely well into intrapersonal interactions. I have just met a totally beguiling English redhead named Poppy, whom I find "utterly enchanting" (my words when asking her out. Yeah. Fuckin' A). I adore her accent, I adore her hair (seriously, beautiful hair), I adore how ridiculously cute she is. So, as would be the logical thing to do, I asked her out. (It was kind of like this: "Uh, uh, uh... so... uh... I, uh, I, uh, I find you, I mean, I'm totally, I think, I find you utterly enchanting, I think you're, uh, uh, really really cool.......... do you want to do anything ever at any time, like... anything? I mean... we could go for a meal, or we could go for a walk, or we could just sit... anywhere... and... talk about anything..." And she got this big grin and said "yeah," and asked when, and I continued to stumble over "Whenever, soon is good," etc. And we agree that we'd go for a walk the next day. And! As I'm leaving, she actually says (I swear) "I can't wait for it to be tomorrow!") It's like being thirteen all over again.

So, the next day, yeah? We go for a walk. It was late, I mean, we didn't leave until 9:30ish. We talked about British stuff, American stuff, general stuff. We blazed. And we walked. By the time we decided to turn around, we'd probably walked two, two and a half miles. And on the way back, I got on the subject of her (well, she asked if I only liked her because she is English). And my response was a listing of a small handful of the things I find "very attractive" about her (see above). And then she got real quiet. It was that thing that chicks do after you tell them something open and honest, when it gets real awkward and quiet, but there's no reason for it. It's only awkward cause you both like each other and so it's not like you can just laugh it off, but it's stupid that it's awkward cause you just want to grab each other and kiss. But that comes later, cause you haven't figured that out yet. Cause you're stupid. Just like me.

So, as we were approaching the dorm, I asked if we were "going to discuss that awkward thing" and she got really quiet again. Which, to be clear, doesn't actually help anything. Then, however, I got a sign, cause she nudged me in what could only be perceived as a playful way (okay, it could have been perceived in some other way). So I did the only thing I could think to do (all together now). I turned around, extended one arm, pulled her close, and kissed her. And kissed her.

Wow.

To add another to the list of things I love about Poppy, let's say "the way she tastes". And "the way she kisses". So it was extremely gratifying (and a little insulting) when she pulled away and said (in her awesome accent) "You're quite good," in this really surprised tone. And then we kissed again.

So, that was incredible. Awesome. Outstanding. Transcendent. I'll go with that one. We hung out the rest of the night. Kissing. Talking. Until! She tells me that there's a slight complication: she has a guy back home. Disaster! She left. Well, she was leaving and told me that she would probably be back, but first she had to think about it. I was excited that she would likely be back, until I realized (and pointed out) that she wouldn't be able to get to my room to talk to me. And I think that that was the fatal mistake.

The next day, she lets me run my fingers through her hair (squee!) and we hang out a little. I don't talk to her enough. I've barely said anything to her in the handful of days we've known each other. I should rectify that. Anyway, we're splitting up to do other things for a while, and I ask if we can hang out later, which she responds positively to, saying that she likes hanging out with me........ but.......... could we maybe just be friends? She feels guilty, is all. I respond with an extremely unenthusiastic "yes" simply because it is impossible at this point. "Friends". Pah.

What am I to do here, caped crusaders? It's clear Poppy likes me. At least, I'm almost sure that's true. But she feels guilty and wants to keep me at arms' length. The assumption I'm working on here is that she likes me, but she's more secure with Tom, back home. Tom, whom she didn't really bother to mention during any of the handful of times it could very very easily have come up in the conversation ("A friend(Tom) sent me a trophy", "I know about ten guys named Tom back home"). This is understandable, but wrong.

I have never been more excited by a human being as I am by Poppy, nor more attracted. Which makes sense, as poppies are the prime ingredient of opium (and by extension, heroin). What to do?