Prufrockian times these

If you know me personally your concept of who I am generally falls somewhere around the idea that I am possibly the most cynical person you ever knew, and for the most part I'll cop to that for the most part, I read far too much to be anything less than savvy that way, but as you may expect I have one achilles heel of childish stubborn optimism. And that weak spot is, well I refer to it as the mythical henry, you know the elusive perfect guy, the One. Yes, I am a hopeless romantic way down there in the cockle region of the heart. I've sustained an unerring belief all these years, and through all these spectacularly dissapointing crushes and dates and relationships that somewhere out there is my John-Cusack-movie ending; the rain moment; the screwball comedy romance; the fountain dancing. I'm waiting for it. The only thing is I refuse to settle, I don't want to be with someone who doesn't make me feel like composing silly odes to them and an explosion of ladyfingers inside, therefore though my attempts at love have been laregly horrendous there haven't been very many of them, for most of the time the object of my smit hasn't really been too keen on me, or ever noticed my massive pining. Somehow I suspect that makes it easier though.

However, I have a massive attraction to a guy I've only corresponded with through the internet and it grows more giddy day by day, every time in fact I learn some new bit of trivia about his life and personality, because every time it is revealed even more randomly that he is more and more my type. He's admitted to having a large crush on me right back which only makes it worse. The trouble is he lives in the UK and I am of course here in the states. Even though it's true that I'm only tied to being here until I graduate in December and I am actually a British citizen as well as an american because my dad is from Wales, still that's a fact I try to push out of my head, I'm actually trying really very hard not to just let my brain run off on it's poetic flights of fancy and become totally stupid on the man, but damn it's hard to fight against one's natural tendency towards beautiful rash exuberance. (it's also hard to cousel oneself out of silly movie-esque ending scenarios, when one has knowledge of how random and simularly cinematic was the history that led to my existence in the first place. My dad was living and working in Bermuda, my mother went there on vacation with a friend of hers who had been asked out on a date by some other local guy, but would only agree to go as a double date so the guy, who worked with my dad, dragged my dad along and even though my mother said it was the worst date she'd ever been on and my dad had barely said a word the entire time, somehow it got to the point that they got married, he moved to the US, they had me and my little brother and they've been married 30 years. So really is meeting someone through a random internet site and a random email really all that far-fetched?)

Still the fight for emotional prudence is being waged, even though I suspect I'm going to lose out to my impetuous star-eyed nature.