These Days.

I was always something of a morbid kid. I was anxious and an overthinker. Whenever I was on the brink of something wonderful, like at trip, a birthday party, or time to open Christmas presents, I always had the fear that I'd be struck dead, either by an asteroid, a semi-truck, or some other likely scenario. As of late, my life is so indescribably good that, in the middle of all of these wonderful moments, I'm yet again faced with the irrational fear that I'm going to die in my sleep because life is simply too good, and something is sure to go wrong at any moment.

So yes. The subject of this insane, fearful happiness. It could have a bit to do with me attending yoga more regularly this year, or the gorgeous weather we've been having (up until last week), or it could most likely be the recent addition to my life. Anyone who may read my blog with any kind of regularly might remember a post from the end of January, where I decided to repurpose my blog, and use it as a place to over-share those funny and awkward (generally boy-and-dating related) moments that had occurred and were sure to occur during my present life. And then, less than a month after writing that post, I meet this person. This boy who I still can't wrap my brain around. I haven't been posting that much because I didn't want to get all swoony and fawny and then jinx the whole thing. But then, I thought, "Screw it."

So hear I am, throwing caution to the wind to ramble a bit about this boy who I met on the cheesiest of all holidays--Valentine's Day. I was supposed to meet a friend at a F*** Valentine's Party so we could check out the Stripsters, but she never showed. I have never in my life been more happy to be stood up. It's funny that we only met then, because everyone in Charleston knows there's this point where you feel like you've seen and met everyone in town that there is to meet. Yet, over the course of this time in Charleston, going to the same shows and events and even the wedding of a mutual friend, we never made the connection until the right moment. Thank you, Cupid? Aphrodite? Baby Jesus?

Basically, I'm constantly marveling at this boy who is a crazy fit to this checklist-of-sorts, who is wildly adorable, who makes me laugh constantly, who sings songs in my house with the windows open and the curtains blowing, who loves thrifting almost as much as me, who adores my friends and has great ones himself, who likes to take long and meandering walks, who calls my dog a Muppet, who is talented and driven, who will spend entire Sundays watching bad television with me, who has the cutest kitten of all time, who owns a vintage typewriter, who quotes ee cummings, who whispers in the dark, who makes me so happy that a small part of me thinks that an asteroid is going to strike me dead.

In short, life is good. Damn good.

Cute Boys in History.

Pre-hipsters. 

Listen up, boyfriend(s).

Late night thoughts about...boys. (What else?)

*Style.  Mine: If I hold up two dresses and ask you, "Which one should I wear?" You better pick one, and have a  good reason for it ("I like your rack in that one" never hurts.). If you give a half-assed response such as, "You look good in everything," I will fight you. That is not a compliment. It's laziness. Also, you aren't allowed to be mad when I inevitably go with the other dress. Bonus points if you take even a tiny interest in my style. Yours: fitted dark denim, classic looks, and a tattoo or two would not be judged negatively. Also, be able to grow facial hair.

* Music. Know a lot of it and a lot about it. More than me. All kinds. Old-school R&B is non-negotiable.

* Movies. Lots of these. If you don't do subtitles, get out now.

* Humor. Mandatory. Laughter is way sexier than...well, than a lot of things. Making me laugh is hugely important. If you think I'm a little bit funny, then this deal is sealed.

* Nerdiness. Also mandatory. Dudes who care about things totally do it for me. Please read books. Please.

* Dates. I could not care less about Valentine's day, red roses, or steak dinners. Be prepared for lots of laziness: bottles of wine and endless albums on a Sunday night, or heads bowed together over crossword puzzles (in pen!) in the corner of a coffee shop. Also aimless walks and talks. Tons of those.

* Dogs. Must be a dog person, or at the very least, a Maya person.

* Friends. Treat me slightly better than yours, and adore mine just slightly less than I do. I will do the same for you and yours. 

* Miscellany. Be able to: open jars, untangle my really tangled necklaces, stay calm if I cry (not often, but it happens), drive stick-shift, make conversation with my family, tolerate my personal dramatics, have street smarts (I am too naive), be slightly more realistic than me.

This is probably why I haven't been in a serious relationship for a while. But what can I say? I like being overly specific. If it were up to my Oma, any ole doctor or lawyer would do ("And if you don't like them that much, their jobs will keep them so busy that they'll barely be home anyway."). Oh well.