Charming Mr. F

Vanguard: let’s be honest. Lady Gaga knows what’s up.

There’s been some talk about my emotional and mental stability, and you know, your gossip really burns. Many of you say that my commitment to this relationship–and no, I’m not afraid of defining it that way–is trite, juvenile, creepy, perhaps. But it’s nothing any other girl wouldn’t do. Sure, I’m a little bolder with my approach, a half page declaration in the school paper doesn’t scream demure. But I’ve always been blunt. James Blunt (p.s. you’re beautiful, it’s true).

I know the statistics; I know Cinderella doesn’t always make it to the ball. But this is my year. I feel it. He likes me. Let’s look at the facts:

He complimented my look the other day.

He asked me about a homework assignment, when he could’ve asked someone else.

He replies to my texts almost instantaneously.

He likes this column, for real. He looked me in the eyes, and said, “I love Mr. F and I love you.”

. . . O.K., maybe not verbatim. But he noticed this column and he noticed me, enough to say something about it. Guys just don’t go out of their way if it’s not something, right?

He may ignore me when I wave from across campus, but he’s shy. A mutual friend told me he is always super attentive whenever she talks about me. Oh, Mr. F, go on!

He listens, ergo he loves.
Intentional one-on-one. Me. You. Do you have a meal plan?

At least I have a shred of evidence that he’s interested. I’m not as crazy as the girl who listens to “Green Eyes” by Coldplay and changes up the lyrics to match her current crush’s eye color. Girls, let’s be real. Chris Martin doesn’t appreciate your plagiarism and neither do I.

Perhaps I can tone it down a few notches. But I can’t guarantee I won’t slip. When you watch “P.S., I love you” as often as I do, pretending your promise ring is an engagement ring comes pretty naturally.

Society tells us it’s unconventional for the girl to pursue the guy–hakuna matata, D-Boys, it’s not like I’m beating down his door. I’m merely letting him know mine is open. If Jesus is knocking at the door, why can’t I be on that side, too?

Said it. Superstar!