I have a crush, and it's not on Mr. Charming.
…okay, well to be fair, Mr. Charming still makes my heart go pitter-patter, but he's also exhausting. I don't like the amount of time I spend thinking about him, knowing that he's probably not thinking about me. Or if he is thinking about me, he's damned good at hiding it. Which to be perfectly honest, isn't that much better. Why hide it? I'm making my interest pretty obvious here, bro. You literally have nothing to lose, seeing as we left my dignity at the last rest stop 20 miles back.
He's been missing in action since the cookout last week, working almost non-stop (which, admittedly, is starting to explain the lost month to me a little bit.), so I've been left feeling very…bored. Bored and restless. Not a good combination.
I got tickets this week to go see a screening of Casablanca at the local movie theatre, and although I had been counting on Clive to be my back-up date, all week long I had been secretly hoping I could talk Charming into going with me. The movies aren't so much his thing, but they are definitely my thing. And come on? Who could say 'no' to Casablanca, one of the greatest films of all time? We'll never know, as Mr. Charming was on a 4-day work trip, and Clive had a party to attend.
So I went with my roommate, which was still really fun. But you catch what I'm getting at here. Although I'm still on the don't-need-a-man train, I'm…frustrated. I'm bored, my coffee-maker is broken (long story), and the weather is hot, which always sets my temper on edge. Which is why I was definitely in the mood for a cold, thirst-quenching glass of crush.
Enter: Mr. Next Door.
Turns out I have a new neighbor. A tall, blonde, tall, muscular, tall, polite neighbor (seriously, what is he, 6'5"?) who accidentally locked himself out of the building earlier this month while I was on my way out to the farmer's market. It was pretty cute. And I looked pretty cute, which was nice. Unlike today, when I looked greasy and sweaty and like I'd just been to the gym…because I had.
I spotted Mr. Next Door from a distance as I was returning from a brief building exeunt to pick up Chinese food for dinner. He was loaded down with what appeared to be camping gear, and as he was attempting to open the front gate, he kept dropping things. And he'd stoop down to pick the item up, but as he straightened up, he'd drop something else, and so on.
It was possibly the most adorable thing I've ever seen a grown man do. "Got it all?" I asked as I got closer, and he turned to see me.
"Yeah I think so," he smiled. He held the gate open for me…and the next two doors. Turns out he'd been away camping in the Smokey Mountains. So, yeah, camping gear. This, of course, elicited several mental images of my tall, muscular neighbor doing things like chopping wood and being all lumberjack-y. Excuse me while I unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
Of course, he has a beard to complete said lumberjack image, and I just have to throw out there that I can't stand beards. They're scratchy, and dirty, and they hide the jawline, which is one of my favorite features on a man. But still, the guy is cute. And as I'm sitting here scraping my chopsticks along the bottom of a carton of lo mein, I find the temptation to go knock on his door to ask if he wants to grab a drink with me quite nagging.
There are a few obstacles in the way of that, the least of which is the fact that I really need to wash my hair. Even if I don't go through with it, though, I'm enjoying the fun little thrill that comes with having an innocent crush. He's cute. I like him. There's something simplistic about that. And after everything this year, something simple feels so refreshing. I like it. I've decided to keep it.