Doug Paulson

What exactly is it about being in the vicinity of someone to whom I am borderline uncontrollably attracted, that turns me into a complete ass? Is it chemical? Am I mental?

Whatever it is. I suffer from it. Hardcore. I stumble over my words. I make really bad jokes. I can’t make up my mind. I linger in the enjoyment of knowing he’s nearby with no reason to stay other than to postpone the inevitable parting that I alone find harder to endure than necessary.

It’s worth noting that I’m sure I’m not fooling anyone (him). And what’s worse really, than pretending to be in control, when all the energy I give off tells an entirely different story? I can, in the moment, delude myself into thinking I’m doing a stellar job of playing it cool, when in fact my pulse is racing and my eyes can’t stop smiling.

Will someone just slap me in the face and tell me to relax? I can’t seem to do it myself. The first and major symptom of aktlikamoronitis: I act like a fucking moron. Curses.

Of course, maybe I’m just over reacting. Another dastardly side-effect. I lose all sense and reason. And then I go home and write about it for the world to read in some weird post-Catholic-stress disorder, guilt-ridden, confession sort of way.

Totally hoping he’ll read it.

And find it completely endearing.

I love the spring.

Below you’ll see two pictures. One is of the outside of my left leg, and one is the outside of my right leg. The left leg (conveniently on the left) is how my leg should look (and usually does) all the time. On the right you’ll see how my leg looks after the nasty fall I took on Friday night coming down a set of metal stairs from being out on a roof in the rain. Rubber soled sneakers with little traction apparently don’t stick well to painted steel when there exists a thin layer of moisture between the two. Landing on your outer thigh with your full weight on the edge of a step isn’t necessarily the best way to fall, though considering I stopped myself from plummeting head first down the remainder of the flight, I’m happy.

Ice (well a bag of frozen corn truth be told) is helping the swelling go down. It’s gone from about the size of a grapefruit to say, a baseball. But for the past two nights I’ve not been able to sleep on my right side, which unfortunately is my side of choice. Sitting is an entirely a new challenge.

I’m interested to see how long it will last. If I’m bored enough I’ll keep you posted on the progress. Which I’m sure you’re thrilled about. And let’s leave the comments about my sexy red underwear to the appropriate forums of …oh what the hell, say whatever you want.