I’m going to start by saying you are very appealing to the eye. Thank you for that. Keep up the good work!
I know you know me quite well. Because a.) we have been talking and; b.) we have been talking too much. But what you don’t know is this – I like you. No. I really like you.
I forgot how it all started. Maybe it was your smile, or our 1-second eye-sex one time? I don’t know. And does it even matter? I think not.
You, my dear, fascinate me. In every way. Everything about you amazes me. The sports (yes, plural) you play, what you do on your spare time, the books you read, the kind of music you listen to, your family, your friends. Everything. You seem too normal, too perfect. And I don’t know how I should feel about that.
You have to know there are tons of butterflies in my belly, waiting to come out, every time you talk to me. It makes me all giddy when you send me messages, all kinds of messages. The fact that you remembered to care if I still existed, gives me enough butterflies for a 10 hectare tulip field. You also make me laugh. I love playing fights with you, or simply talking about ‘serious’ stuff with you. Actually, it doesn’t even matter what I;ll do, as long as I’m doing it with you.
I hope you would not creep out so much when I confess that I do think of you sometimes. Scratch that, I think about you all the time. I think about you too much. I think about all the things we’d do together, all the playful fights, all the dates we’re going to have when we would finally be together, officially. Oh, imaginations.
I’m sorry but I’m not an ‘intimate’ person. I want to, but I always end up embarrassing myself the very second I try to. But if you like somebody who clings to you like a Koala, or sends you sweet text messages, then please don’t expect any of that from me. I am not much of a love-y dove-y kind of girl, I hate texting and too much attachment from you gives me sweaty palms and controlled breathing. But hey, if I really like you I never ignore your texts. Yes, even the nonsense ones. So, feel fucking special.
You must also know how I don’t know how to be in a relationship. I’ve got no clue, or maybe I just forgot. I don’t know when I’m supposed to tell you I like you, or show signs. How soon is too soon? I don’t know what to think when you send me flirty texts. Or maybe I just assumed they were flirty texts. Maybe you were just being nice, or simply having a good laugh. How am I supposed to know if you like me back? Or will I ever know if you like me?!
I wish it’s easy to come up to you and tell you ‘I like you’ first. Apparently, being a girl comes with an agreement of not telling a guy you like him. If I knew, I would have grown pee-pee then.
Come on. Just man up already! Or should I tell that to myself?