Too Much Time To Think

In all my days, there have only been a handful of girls that have caused me to stutter and be short of breath. Literally, I can count them on one hand. There was one as a freshman in high school, another as a senior, then one my sophomore year of college (she turned up again 2 years later), my second year out of college, and now… this one. Apparently I stumble into this hopeless romanticism every two years.

The trouble is… I’m a punk. While I have a good mind to walk right up to these ladies and say “I hope you have a dustpan handy, because I’m about to sweep you off your feet,” I feel powerless to do so. Usually I am very confident and assertive, but in the proximity of these individuals I have proven over and over that I am incapable of coherent thought.

Take today for example. I am walking along the sidewalk when 50 feet ahead of me in a crowd of people I see “the girl.” 50 feet. That is just enough space to wonder if it’s actually her, and just enough time for all my powers of speech to disown me. She’s radiating beauty, and I’m fast approaching from behind. She is with friends. They are taking photos. So what do I do? Well of course, I walk right past her — near enough she probably felt the subtle draft of a body moving close by. I probably photo-bombed her picture too, accidentally, but I kept walking. Nevermind that she is standing in the door of my destination. To stop is to make a fool of myself, or at least that’s how I subconsciously justify my flight.

Must. Captivate. I should have stopped and said “Oh wow, hey! I didn’t expect to see you here, you look great! Who are your friends? Hi, hello, nice to meet you… so you gals think you’re actually going to meet a celebrity by being here? You do? Well you’re the prettiest girls in the whole bunch, so he’s a fool if he overlooks you. I gotta get going though, I’m meeting some friends for dinner. Have y’all eaten? You have plans? Alright then, I’ll see you later. Good luck!”

You only live once, right? The God of Heaven and Earth created me the same as He created her, right? What have I got to lose, right? I’m nothing but flesh and blood just like she’s nothing but flesh and blood… and perfect hair… and a mysterious smile… and kind eyes… right?

/:)

Boy-Hating Jest

Let me begin with yet another disclaimer: I don’t remember ever being so satisfied with my life as I am right now. My community group at Athens Church is incredible, my workout regimen with my brother is showing tangible results, my recent work on websites has been professionally fulfilling, my social groups are buzzing, and my financial state is healthy praise the Lord. Life is good, and that’s understating it. I am truly blessed.

I hope that many of my fellow bloggers are reading this, since it is some of their recent Facebook and Twitter posts that have inspired these notes. So let’s begin this–maybe my first ever “single man’s rant” provoked during a life state of honest contentment and true joy:

It breaks my heart to see lovely Christian girls publicly taking stabs at the general population of boys. Often this is done light-heartedly and I get that. But there are boys out there like me who read these things and think to themselves: “if she felt about me the way I feel about her, she’d be happy” or “if she’d say yes to me, she wouldn’t have that problem.” These are just a couple of attempts to paraphrase the thoughts in our heads, but I promise you that for every status posted about being better off without boys or about waiting for Prince Charming, there is a well-intentioned hopeless romantic desiring to be recognized. Guard your hearts ladies, but for pete sake open your eyes.

Leave comments and I’ll respond.