Dumber Than a Box of Rocks

Why is it that, when I am face to face with Pocket Watch Guy, I become dumber than a box of rocks? Maybe, just maybe, it's because he is the epitome of the figment of my imagination of the guy I end up with. Ever. Since. I. Ever. Imagined. Him.

He is attuned to the fact that every person (including Men) has the capacity for, and a destiny of, Personal Growth. He is travel-adventurous. He is action-adventurous. He is career-adventurous. He is socially adaptable. I don't need to advise him on how to dress [much]. He doesn't have a flat screen because he barely ever watches TV. He reads stuff. He is funny. He is relaxed. He is aggressive in his career path. And! He has a pocket watch collection. Melt. I have no idea why that is attractive to me, but it is.

And so, because of all of these things, I cannot look him in the eye long, for fear he sees me melt, and I say really stupid stuff when I am a reasonably intelligent lady, I shuffle my feet, etc., etc. Dear Lord, what must he think of all that?

Because I have said such really stupid things to him (REALLY, I am not exagerating), I have all but given up on any chance of him being interested back. Which is a good thing, because when I care less about what one thinks of me I can be more myself. So, I should be myself by now; I've blown it at least four times with him already, which is enough for me to feel I've ended Scene I and I can relax now. But somehow I'm still as nervous as I was when I liked the coolest boy, Will M, when he was in the 7th grade and I was in 6th, and I was awkward in stature and just starting to get boobs. THAT'S how it feels when I am around Pocket Watch Guy. The horror!

One time Pocket Watch Guy saw me about to go to Starbucks, and he said "you're going into Starbucks?! I would have figured you for a Peet's girl." And in reality, I am a Peet's girl; the coffee is far superior. But I was new to the neighborhood and Starbucks looked to be more social than Peet's at the moment, and I was hoping to start making a community in my new hood, and I replied lamely... "..."... oh crap, it was such a lame response that I have blocked it entirely from my mind. Sorry to ruin a good reference point. But I will tell you that upon reciting the story to WR, she laughed and laughed and laughed into my cell phone, literally for minutes on end, and I was almost home by the time she stopped. I really wish I could remember now - I can assure you it was one of the most retarded things I have ever said. If I remember over night, I'll let you know. But fate is telling me it's probably a good thing I have blocked it, lest I be too harshly judged.