This could be the third time I've written about my love life (or lack thereof) in a year and a half. So that's, what, once every six months? Yeah, I think it's about time to foist something along these lines upon your brain. Besides, it's been weighing heavily on mine for the past few days.
I've come to the realization that I miss having romance in my life. It's not that I'm a terribly romantic person — there are a couple of people in this world who can soundly attest to that — but it's been a long, long time since I've felt the heart fluttering, the butterflies, the urge to projectile-vomit all over everything in a two-metre radius. You know, pretty much how you feel after spinning yourself dizzy in the front yard like you used to do when you were little (or, in some cases, last week).
Actually, let me amend and clarify. It's been a long time since (a.) I've felt that, and (b.) someone's felt that about me in return (and I've been aware of it), because there have been several instances in the past few months where I've thought, "Hey, Girl X might just dig me a little," but every time it's been me reading things completely wrong.
...which serves to highlight (one of) my problem(s). Since it's been so long since an honest-to-goodness love-interest has come into my life, my brain has been searching in vain for possible inklings of romance, and this has unfortunately led it down some dead-ends. So, if you know me, and I've made an awkward romantic advance in your general direction lately, I wholeheartedly apologize and blame it on Kingston tap-water.
I'm not looking for either pity or condolences or "don't worry, you'll get caught by someone, it'll happen, just be patient." I think I'd just like a girl to dig me, and be nice enough to tell me. (Preferably within a 100-mile radius.)