The Fuzzies Return
I just got back from seeing Tobie. Although she�s often on my mind, there�s so much that I�ve forgotten. I forgot how I absolutely melt when I see her smile. I forgot how weak my knees get when I look into her amazing eyes. I forgot how blissful I feel when I hear her laugh. I forgot how nervous and excited I get when I�m half a block away from the coffeehouse, tingling with anticipation to see her. I forgot how helpless she makes me feel when I�m standing next to her, utterly charmed. I forgot what it was like to be at Farley�s, stop whatever I was doing, look at her, and have my breath taken away. I forgot how content I feel when I�m hugging her, not wanting to let go. I forgot what it was like to have someone give your heart the fuzzies.
As with anything else, it�s not all good. I forgot how frightened I get with women I�m truly attracted to. I forgot how scared of rejection I am. I forgot how inactive I get with women and how I rarely take the opportunity to initiate something more.
Still, the good definitely outweighed the bad. It was super lovely that Kate, Rannie, and my best-friend-in-the-industry were there too. More than once I was told by one of them that I get starry eyed when I think about Tobie. Justin took a most splendid picture of Tobie and me. I can�t wait to get it so I can make it my new desktop (sorry Kitten). It would make my year if this picture were in a future issue of Game Informer. I�d love to be able to go to Farley�s and tell Tobie, �Look, it�s us.�
It really is a brilliant picture. And perhaps that�s all I want it to be. She�s perfect like that and I�m perfectly safe adoring her from afar (well, Irvine anyway). Certainly there�s a part of me that wants more from her. And I�d love to give more to her. But there�s a part of me that�s terrified of her saying she doesn�t wish the same. As much as I think our views on love are compatible, I don�t think I could bear her telling me she doesn�t think of me that way–even though I know she doesn�t. The reality of it would ruin me. Even though my heart isn�t bleeding from that PR girl anymore, there�s definite scarring.
I guess it�s funny that there are some people that think I�m strong, when in actuality I�m quite fragile�and definitely a mess.