Last weekend I fell in love. I didn't mean to, I didn't want to but I did. I don't even really want to admit it because it's the stupid infatuation can't-stop-thinking-about-it kind of love you know isnt real but you long for it to be something more than it is. Or maybe that's something only I experience. I don't really know, I've never had the real thing.
Anyway, the story starts like way too many of my stories start: I was drunk and not thinking clearly. But I don't count this as a drunken mistake, because it truly was one of the better nights of this semester. At least in relation to my boy experiences. I went home with a boy i didn't know, not thinking about that implication, only focused on the fact that he told me had a puppy. I have a soft spot for puppies. As I'm sure 95% of girls do, which is I'm sure the reason they got the dog in the first place. But the softy in me fell for the puppy ploy and the romantic in me fell for the boy.
He was handsome and charming and he played the guitar for me. He sang me a song. I was hooked, charmed at the very least. He was tall and smelled delicious so I slept in his bed. But the best part was I restrained him from going to far and he probably was the most respectful of that decision of any boy I have hooked up with this far in my short life. I was very pleasantly surprised and for the few hours we were together, actually happy.
It didn't last long though, the next night I saw him for what he really was: a guy. A guy with only one thing on his mind which is the same thing as the other thousand guys at this school and million guys in the country (I can't speak against foreign boys, maybe they're more noble). So the picture of the dream boy who was kind and understanding and willing to wait for me because I was worth it was of course shattered, like it has been a hundred times before. My hope has dwindled. My heart has hardened just a little bit more. I'm not sure I can take much more hurt.
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