I love you....

....One of my bestest friends said recently, while we were talking about the guy she likes, who seems to like her back but hasn't made plans to see her in a while, which leads to some confusion about if he likes her the way she likes him (a well-known confusion that always sets in whenever one doesn't see each other in a while); she said "See, you don't have to worry about that anymore, because you know." And well, she's right - I know because he told me so just two nights ago. And believe me, I'm as amazed by that incident as anyone should be, breaking into dazed expressions with stupid little grins several times a day, whenever the memory hits me and my brain is like woah, that happened. I'd also like to tell everyone including my church paper editing team (six 40-Somethings and a priest), but I don't because I don't want to be one of those people. So instead I tell my two ride or dies several times a day.

So, I'm over the moon and everything, but I think, regarding the worrying about his state of affection for me - I guess deep down I knew for a while now. I mean, I hoped as well, and I worried a little for the sake of it, but I still believed, judging from the way he is when I'm with him, and the things he tells me and the fact that he watched the new Bridget Jones movie with me, that there must be a reason that's sorta coming from that direction.

And please, ignore me if you like for I'm sliding a bit along the lines of those people now, but I feel that in a "thing between people" (not to say relationship, 'cause that sounds like I'm giving psychological advice and I would be annoyed with myself if I did that) it would be great if both of these people would make each other feel like they know. Not from the beginning, 'cause that would be creepy and honestly, who even knows anything themselves at that point, but you get it. Sometime.

Because the whole texting-game is so tiring and time-consuming and we all have much better things to do, such as painting our nails (something I never seem to get around to).

Love,

Rosy Smith