Oh boy. Today was awkward. I'm back to thinking that mr. youngin' is at best not interested and at worst actually frightened of me. Yippee. I know I need to not get on the possibilities roller coaster every time I encounter someone who might even be slightly eligible to which I take some sort of fancy, but it's fucking hard, especially when the pool of people I meet is less than large or full of the penis-ed ones.
I've told myself over and over again all along that I'm too old, that he won't be interested, yada yada yada. That's all just cover noise though because beneath it hope kept opening her giant trap and spouting out what-if's and could-be's. Pointing out all our commonalities and reminding me of how fucking attractive I think he is (especially in his glasses, which he hardly ever wears, how cute *sigh*) This isn't the first time I've been on this ride, so the ups and downs aren't new, but I'd thought by now I could handle them better. That I wouldn't be so disappointed, or feel so weird about it. Apparently, according a qualified male I make it quite obvious that I'm into him (inadvertently of course, I wouldn't know how if I tried) and his responses to it seem to be general coworker niceness to semi-uncomfortableness. And I don't want to be that broad, I'm too young to be a cougar, and I'm not made for that kind of thing. Gah, and there she is down there still sending up her flares with "hey he never said he hates you or anything" attached. I'm trying to send back down rationalities that say no, but she's a persistant bitch and she doesn't give a flying fucking fig about sense. And, she might just be the death of me.
