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I think
Something's wrong with me.

I really have no one to talk to, not about anything that bothers me.

Right now, what bothers me is this weird vibe I get off Jay sometimes. Less a vibe, more a continual issue with my imagination. I'm having abstract semi-physical flash-image imaginings about the guy. It grosses me out. This exceeds my staring-at-crotches awkwardness.

We keep drifting in to talks about monogamy, etc. Normally, these sorts of things are my stomping grounds in a crowd setting. When you put me in a room with a solo male, things usually end up panning out wrong.

He doesn't seem to have an active interest in me. I don't think I have one for him. Paranoia lingers.

I find it kind of rude, on my part. It's ruining the fun of the customer/pal bond we seem to have going. It's only really when I stand too close to him, because a) I can smell him sometimes, and he strikes me as another Old Spice dude; b) I worry that I stink that day.

Sounds weird. Am I getting a man-crush on him, or something?

It leaves me puzzled. I DON'T like the idea of anything happening; I don't actually foresee anything happening. It's my goddamn imagination -- as stark as that really is.

What's weirder? I never imagine anything really outrageous. No real contact. Just, him puckering, stuff like that. I've given next to nil for thoughts on touching the guy. I'm just disturbed by the wandering ponderings my mind gets around to.

The guy seems committed to his wife; I'm committed to my lesbianauge/committed bachelorism. There is nothing to worry about.

My face still scrunches up, having my little fleeting thoughts. (Even the thought of his hairy chest makes my lip curl.)

Whyyyyyyyy does this bother me, if it amounts to nothing, is nothing, etc? It's a fucking inane thing to fret about.

It could just be that this is my reaction to bonding with males. My idea of bonding is to talk openly -- this has led to disaster over and over. Granted, nothing I say is really a come-on, or even sexy in manner. Well. I don't know -- pervy guys always hone in to girls who complain about having shitty sex-lives. I am that kind of girl, and those kind of guys usually become friends for a while. Not that Jay seems abnormally pervy; he's got a perv streak in the same fashion as I do: if it's porn, or dirty jokes, it's all good, because it's fucking funny.

I dunno. My bond with Jay is certainly weird. I mean, we get along well most of the time. No one else really likes having me around, Mom aside. I do confide in Jay a lot. He lets me get in to the insights that others don't care for. He'll give advice, point me in the right direction for social conduct.

And yet, my mind makes this nice little friendship open to jitters. Fuck you, brain. Srsly.

You Missed:

*DISCLAIMER
* WHO TF IS ALL THIS??!
* INTRO, 2
* NAQ

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Circa 2010