Saturday, January 15, 2011


They're definitely not just for kids. They're for everyone; you can never be too old to have a crush. That flutter in the stomach for a gesture that has absolutely no meaning but one that consumes your entire brain trying to analyze? That's a whole sleep lost we deserve to suffer from.

Even the ridiculous ones. Even the one I had on Aidan Grimshaw where I traveled to London just to chance upon maybe meeting him strutting along Oxford Circus. Of course he wasn't the reason why I went there, but he was the first thing that came to mind when I found out I will.

Or if it's as near a person as Chester Taylor when I was a freshman in UST, where I even preserved his number (which I got from a reliable source I tell ya) on my phone thinking maybe someday, I'll have the guts to use it.

Or if it's the real crushes you get as with DJ Caro, my P.E mate in Basketball whom I went nuts for just by the sight of.

Yes I'm name dropping, because I'm brave. Because I don't think it's something to be ashamed of. Whether they're unrequited or just totally improbable - like my undying love for James Lafferty (yes I still think I have a shot with Aidan) or my newly-developed infatuation for Andrew Garfield, who, I might say, is up on the top of my list to be my next wallpaper.

Only other guys who have made it there on my virtual wall were Kobe Bryant, Cristiano Ronaldo and Lee Dewyze. But Spiderman is just going to have to hang in there a little while longer because Neil Etheridge is definitely my favorite next pin-up boy.

Silly things like these, they divert thoughts of work to some kind
of a storage folder while you bliss in 10 wonderful minutes of just spacing off and thinking about your wedding. Of course it's so much better when your work has to do with thinking about these crushes. And getting through to those crushes; incidents that are just most deserving of a screengrab, and tantamount to a blog post. Like this one.

I'm writing this because I haven't eaten a th
ing since last night but for the first time in a very long time, I don't care. My stomach is full of butterflies.

Also I'm writing this because days ago, a boy's name came up in some conversations, and I can't believe up until that time, I have not lay a thought on him.

All because I'm busy with the awesomeness of getting to watch Jesse Williams every Thursday night, or staying up on Twitter all day, looking out for Etheridge's next tweet. Which, in turn, gives me a feeling so much nicer than any other feeling being in love with somebody who's too full of himself to give a crap ever gave me.

I'm writing this because I have finally come into the conclusion that there are so many other guys out there, and that he falls way desperately out of that league. Or, as I'm realizing, any other league.

So I think when I say, this time, that I have finally moved on, people ought to believe me.

I have my wallpaper, and my heart devoid of his name, to show for it.

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