Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Somehow, Spring semester is, and will always be, the season for silly, old fashioned, totally irrational, foolishly idealistic, puppy dog love.
I remember last year's tingly feelings, the drama, the hesitant lunch outings, the "i think you know what i think i'm thinking" thoughts, the valentine's day roses. It all seems so silly now. She and I are now good friends: I tell her how to shrug off stalkers, and she comes over to drink, quiz me on Cosmopolitan articles, and we laugh about our (okay, my) idiotic perceptions on dating.
And then, after a blissful semester of work, activities and downright debauchery - flutterby feelings return again with a vengeance. With a new someone. Perhaps it is the weather, the incessant hope that although its still FRICKIN COLD now, Spring is around the corner. Perhaps its the knowledge that graduation is coming - a final, desperate attempt for people to attach some sort of significant emotional attachment to Penn.
Or perhaps, perhaps, feelings of flutterby are just that: little fluttery squiggles of warmth that stealthily find their way into your throat, your tummy, and your heart when you least expect it, or even when you don't want them too.
As clear cut in my attitudes about commitment-free, clear-cut dating are, flutterbies screw up my mind and rational logic, and replace them with something that is wonderfully pleasurable, yet utterly confusing.
You know that by doing something about it, the possibility of heartbreak is high, and the friendship becomes awkward at best. (if things do not turn out well). But you also know that with flutterbies in your tummy, being "just friends" will never be a stable equilibrium for the demand and supply of your emotions (haha - econ major talking), at least, not for now anyway.
So what do you do? You wait. You wait in the hope of communicating a signal, as nonchalant as a friend would give, yet obvious enough to display that you want more than that. And you try desperately to look for a sign, any sign, that the other party feels the same way. And when the sign(s) do come, you wonder if you're reading too much into things.
Damn you, flutterbies.
he rocked the party at 11:46 AM |
