I’d like to consider myself a fairly sane person. I wear clothing, avoid drama, and know nothing about voo doo. I don’t have a secret alias, or an imaginary friend, or a meth problem. No skeletons in my closet, just a bulging IKEA shoe rack and a gallon-sized refill of Febreze.
Decidedly not crazy.
Yet for some reason, whenever a particularly witty, charming, attractive male glides into the picture, my so-called sanity gets a little shaky. Suddenly, I find myself Googling his name at 2AM, skimming news briefs about what appears to be a highlight-filled yet short-lived high school soccer career. I’m not crazy, I rationalize; I simply want to be informed.
We’ve all been there. Or at least I hope we’ve all been there, because I really don’t want to be the only one who creeps like this. Guys I like just make me a little bit of a nutter. Fingers crossed these apply to you too. Read More »
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