Are you ready for this middle-school-level-crush post? I just sent a Facebook friend request to this guy who is in a few of my classes and who I shamelessly ogle every day. I felt like my coffee was going to spurt right out of my nose when I pressed the “add” button on his profile. And I about had an aneurism when I opened my phone and saw a bright red circle indicating the fact that I had one new notification. I opened the app in anticipation (Have you scoffed in derision yet? Because if not, I think we should be best friends.) to find that the notification was simply for a poke. From my grandmother. FABULOUS. Now I am going to spend the rest of my day freaking out about whether or not my “crush” (such a delightfully adolescent word!) will accept my request or simply brush me off like the creep I am. Let’s hope he chooses the first option. Wish me luck, internet. I will need it in my quest to fulfill my dream of marrying this man.
Ok…so that last sentence…no judgement please. I may not want to marry him (yet) but I do desperately want to talk to him when I’m: a. Not letting a massive sneeze exit my nasal passageways (story to come), b. Looking like a presentable human being, and c. Not shaking from excess caffeine intake and/or complete Chihuahua-esque nervousness in the face of his beauty.
Story of option “a” given above:
It was a bright and sunny afternoon and where was I? In the UNDERGROUND lecture hall on campus listening to yet another lecture on chemical bonds and polarity. Wahoo. My professor loves to construct models of various molecules and pass them around the class almost every day and this certain Tuesday was no exception. He assembled some big-ass “caterpillar” carbon and hydrogen chain and sent it out into the audience. When it was finally time for me to take the molecule from my neighbor (the perfect human that has yet to accept my creeper friend request) and pass it down, I looked over at the kid sitting next to me and about shat myself. He was smiling (perfectly of course) and holding the little cluster of white and grey out for me to grab. All that managed to float around in my tiny pea brain at that moment was “Holy. Hell. I want to touch it.” And I didn’t want to touch the molecule…I wanted to miss the handoff of the sculpture and “accidentally” touch his hand and, well, his everything else. But no. I grabbed the molecule and promptly let out a sneeze for all to hear. He jumped in his seat and laughed when I handed off the little atom cluster to a disgusted shaggy man sitting next to me. All I can say that was positive about that sneeze was the fact that there was no nasal spray included in the eruption. But there was a cough and a small (and thankfully silent) bubble of gas that snuck out of my “Fart Factory” (thank you Mitchell Davis for that clever name). I didn’t dare to wriggle or even shift a centimeter in my seat in fear of offending Mr. Right so I sat there. Still. Mortified. A statue made of incredibly pale granite who happened to be hungry for a good egg salad sandwich.