I apologize for my last post. That was a lame cop out to finagle my way out of taking the time to write something new.
See, for me, blogging is an intensely emotional experience. I don't mean I sit here with a box of Kleenex and sob my way through each entry, but I have been known to shed a tear or throw on my Ashlee Simpson CD (I actually own that CD AND I know how to correctly spell her name. Impressed? You should be.)
When it comes down to it though, the topic of coming out just isn't something I take lightly. It's a big deal for me and some days, I just don't have the balls to write about what's really going on. I'm not blogging about current events, music, or how to get rid of that nasty rash you've had on your back for weeks (though I might be able to tell you, I am a nursing student after all). I'm blogging things that not even my family knows. I'm letting anyone perusing the interwebs read about one of the biggest internal struggles I've faced in life so far. Although cathartic, it can be a little overwhelming sometimes.
That said, last night I made a total idiot out of myself (surprised? Don't be.) There is a woman in one of my night classes that I am completely infatuated with. She has blondish-red hair, bright blue eyes and the most beautiful tattoos covering most of her body. She's a stunner. We've had classes together in the past and got to know each other fairly well over a summer class taken this year. We talk frequently and have even gone out for coffee a few times. She always flirts with me (I think, I'm notoriously bad at reading signs of interest)... but here's the kicker: She's straight, married AND has a 1 year old son.
I am not about to make a move and even if she ever (in my wildest dreams) made a move herself, I wouldn't go for it. I know I seem like a home-wrecker but I DO have morals, questionable as they may be. Even so, I can look can't I? I can dream?
Anyways, as we were walking out of class yesterday, chatting it up as usual, I looked down, stopped dead in my tracks and said bluntly "My shoes are on the wrong feet." The worst part? It was the truth.
Besides my inability to act like a decent, functioning human being around pretty girls, I have no handicap, I swear to you. I was wearing flip flops and since it's incredibly hard for me to sit still for long periods of time, I take them off during class and kick them around or play with them with my feet. Once in awhile I'll slip them back on to stand up quickly, only to find that they're on backwards. Usually I notice before anyone else does. Usually I do not announce this fashion faux pas.
After I revealed my mistake to everyone within a 10 foot radius, the woman doubled over with laughter and said "Wow, that's amazing." Did she think it was cute? Did she think it was quirky, in a loveable sort of way? Does she think I'm mentally retarded?
I'm betting on the last one, but we'll have to wait until next class period to find out.