Socially Awkward Romance, Part 3

Hey guys. So. Yup. We've got a problem.

You see, Bryan and I are at his "not-dating-but-hanging-out-with-possibility-of-romance" thing... and I'm afraid I'm very much more smitten with him now. By not putting pressure on the romantic side of our relationship, we've gotten comfortable with teasing each other and being us, and it's really great. Like, constant bubble in my chest, we text constantly and I love it, great. I call him names, he makes fun of me for making grammatical mistakes in my texts.

That said, we haven't really hung out since the first date. Okay, listen, for the purposes of this blog (and my silly teenage heart), any time we spend together, hang out or otherwise, is known as a "date." Because for real.

So I suppose I should start from after the first date, and catch you up.

I felt pretty horrible as time passed. I just... I felt like he was trying to let me down easy, and he didn't know how to be nice and honest at the same time. I also secretly feared that he was going to play games with me somehow. Like we'd hang out and I'd fall desperately in love with him, and he'd turn around and go "Well... I've figured out my feelings. I don't like you. SO SORRY."

Actually, that's still a bit of a real fear. But anyway.

After the date, I resolutely did not text him, even though I wanted to. God, it feels like I want to text him ALL THE TIME. I'm sick. After three days of no real texting, my hope had waned to near-dissolution. I was so sick of being first texter. You know what I mean? Some people receive texts unwarranted all the time. Some people have to actively seek out a conversation if they want one. I'm of the latter, usually. And I hate it. I'm a decently cool person. Obviously you think I am, reader of this shamefully self-obsessed blog of mine. Why would you read this otherwise?

Sunday was just... not cool. Our date and the following conversation was on Wednesday. All morning, I was just like, "Welp. This is it. I guess I should have known. How will I face him now? God. I hurt."

Then he texted me. Cue the sappy music and time-lapse shots of flowers blooming.

"What's shakin', puddin' pop?" he writes.

He called me puddin' pop. Just. Stop. Too Much. Joy. Here.

We end up texting for hours. He wanted to hang out that day (HE WANTED TO HANG OUT YUSS) but, alas, I was busy. So we just texted a lot instead.

Today was no different. I originally texted him about... something. I do not remember. We've been texting ever since. That started at around 4:00 pm, it 9:45 right now. He's doing NaNoWriMo, as am I (I write so goddamn much, I might as well), and now we're writing buddies as well and awkward-dating-not-dating buddies.

This really isn't much of a post. I don't have a ton to say. I'm just... happy. Really, perfectly content. And I want record of such emotions in case something horrible happens in my future and I need a perk-up.

Bryan makes me laugh. He makes everyone laugh, really. He's a brilliantly intelligent, funny guy who is somehow magically just as awkward as me (well, maybe not AS awkward, but you'd have to be a fail at society to be on my level).

Little update-- I gushed at him. Ugh. Loser. He called himself a freak and I said it was horrible to say that. He asked why and my response was, "Because freak has a highly negative connotation that shouldn't be associated with you. That might sound a little gushy, but really."

He goes, "Ohh p'ffaww. I'm nothing to holler home about."

HOW DOES THAT READ? Is this, "I'm secretly very pleased and hiding it," or "Please don't say such things, it makes me feel awkward"??

This is my life. My entire emotional existence shifts with each text message we exchange. I am so, utterly, hopelessly, silly. And maybe a little, tiny bit in love. But shh. I can't be yet, so don't tell my brain.

ANOTHER UPDATE.

I have been the mediator of a conversation between my best friend, Emilie, and Bryan. We're all doing NaNoWriMo and Bryan's word count is ridiculously high, so Emilie was like, "You are a dark wizard practicing black magic." His response.

"I am the darkest of wizards. I am the most Piceous fucking Sorcerer this side of Hogwarts. I'm getting on straight achromatic occult shit, dishing out sable spells and obsidian hexes, atramentously bewitching them bitches, ensuring they are at my most egregiously slick, stygian beck and call. Bow before the Dope-Ass Master of all Onyxian Delirious Thaumaturgic Biznasty, ladies, because it's me. [BRYAN FREER] 2012"

Panties = dropped. I can't. I need to marry this man. I need to have his babies. You don't understand. I don't even fully understand. I'm going to go be a ball of goo over here. You guys have fun being you.