(More than you think, that’s what this is.)

Lindsey likes me.

I don’t feel embarrassed around her, I don’t feel fat around her, I feel good, I feel like I could (and I did) pre-cum on my work shirt when we spoon and not even worry (she laughed about it).

I even can have my gassy problems and not feel bad.

I feel like it’s her mission to make me stop being so Woody Allen, which won’t happen. But having her there last night, and today when she came by my work and ate with me, we just click, and I know her friends have their problems with her but for once it doesn’t even matter what most of anyone thinks. (Maybe Sarah’s opinion will matter. Maybe someone else’s too.)

But also, guess what? Lindsey has a boyfriend. And you just know I’m not that kinda guy.

Lindsey likes that about me.