It could be too much caffeine.
Or, I could be really bored at work.
And feeling nervous. Because sometimes I just get over wrought.
And lately, I have been fussy about my thoughts on The Squeeze. The thoughts are bordering on mania.
He’s the most normal, most nice, kind and considerate guy I’ve ever dated. And this is very, very nice. I have made no concessions. I have no qualms. I like him and really don’t want to lose him. And this freaks me the fuck out.
Calming breaths. Calming breaths. Calming breaths.
What if? What if I only think that I like him, but I really don’t, and I won’t realize that until 2 years from now? What if I make one snarky comment too many and he realizes that I’m an asshole? What if his sister hates me? What if I am just caught up in not having to be a part of some sick ill open relationship festering wound of wretched? And I’ll never forget that Shel Silverstein said, “what if green hair grows out of my chest?” Yeah! What if?
Can’t I just rationally deduce that he is:
-incredibly good to me
-very handsome and I’m terrifically attracted to him
-quite clever and intelligent both
-silly and playful
-thinking I am pretty and tells me so and I think I might believe him
-active and engaged and very impressive
-(and a whole laundry list of things, and trying to make a list is just insulting because it would be infinite. And I can’t keep writing an infinite list, so I have to stop, except that also)
-really quite superb in the sack <blush>
So be rational, woman. Stop freaking out. He is good. You are good. The us is good. In fact, it’s excellent and wonderful. Having a mental breakdown over something good is just about the dumbest thing you could choose to do at this moment.