I’m writing to you all in a state of panic. I have the total hots for this upperclassman, Charlie, and my feelings for him have only gotten stronger since we began talking at the start of summer break. Although I know that we’ve discussed the prospect of going out on a second date, and have had conversations that have stretched over hours, I can’t help but feel as though I still don’t hold his interest. There will be little spurts where he pays me a flirty compliment, or implies a slight crush, but I can’t help but look for subtext in every text he sends. It’s almost as though my brain doesn’t want him to like me back.
A month ago, a boy asked me out for coffee. I take that back. Not just any boy. I’m talking about the most perfect mold of a human being that I’ve ever laid eyes on: Charles E. Stetson. For context, this boy was the boy in my first semester psychology class whom I wrote extensively about in November for being so freaking attractive (See my …To my Future Husband blog post). A true prince. Tall with curly blonde locks, perfectly chiseled features, and pale blue eyes that could make any girl melt. So forgive me for essentially liquefying into a pool of water when he asked me out.