But I realized that the front page of my blog is still featuring 'Taupo', and as much as I still feel like moving to Samoa, it might be that some of the hints provided in that text might be slightly out of date.
It's not like I was good at falling for someone. I most certainly am not. It seems like the phase described surprisingly well by 'Taupo' might be part of the ordinary procedure. Then, I get kind of creepy and then need to hold myself with mucho force so as to keep myself from sending c.r.a.z.y. texts like 'I went swimming today and missed you'.
To be honest, that message would probably have turned out as 'I went swimming today, and in the sauna I saw much more of an old lady's ladyparts than I would have wanted to, and then I missed your facial hair'.
I consider myself lucky as long as I am able to keep telling myself that the kind of messages I plan in my head eventually (or, more like, right away) would begin to sound like I was a hairy man in my late 50s, wearing a catsuit, just outside their window trying to sneak in. With my over-attached girlfriend eyes, and they're creepier than that girl's in the original meme. Trust me. I've been told that.
This picture is here because I relate to it quite much. And just so you know - I wouldn't dare to publish this post if there was even the slightest possibility that the person in question would be reading this blog. But he's not! Because he does not even know I blog! HA HA HA, in your face, world, I win at life! Self-five!
see? getting creepy... and totally losing it...
Also, before ending this horror - sorry for the title of the post. I know it sounds like a bad country song, or something that Britney Spears would have done when she was seventeen and everyone still believed she was nice and not naughty at all.
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