As adverse as I usually say I am to love, I can’t help myself from falling into admiration. I mean, I’m always involved with some sort of crush. I guess it’s because I can’t ignore the beauty in certain people. What is that, and can it be stopped?

I wasn’t going around looking for anything, and here I am with a fat crush. Again. Well, it’s more of a revival, I suppose. Of course, like all other admirees and big loves of my life, it’s completely illogical.

Distance. I’m attracted to distance in every sense of the word. Clearly, it’s some sort of shielding mechanism or addiction to rejection, depending on which type of distance is involved. Typically, with boyfriends, I like them to be emotionally distant. They will always prefer time by themselves to time with me. They won’t even flinch when they’re criticizing me. Maybe K is right, maybe I subconsciously enjoyed being a victim…because that is certainly what I always chose.

This new-old crush is a product of physical distance, which is how I do the Transformers-style reveal of my safety wall. What isn’t close can’t hurt me, right? All I can do is imagine spending ideal time together while we chat on the phone for hours. It’s torture because I pick nice boys for this deal, and it would be great if I could actually make the crush into something more somewhere down the line…but let’s give a round of applause to the several hundred miles between us.

One of these days, I’ll snap out of Crazyville.