On Dickens and Dominos

It was the best of times and the worst of times, and now I'm somewhere in the middle, back where I was before. There's always that sliver of hope, which I like to leave myself room for, but my enthusiasm is guarded.

I don't know if I've ever not taken "No" for an answer before. I don't know where the lines are between being romantic and being annoying. Between being persistent and being a stalker. Being in love and being obsessed.

Now, of course, let me not get ahead of myself. I haven't done a damn thing. I've spent one day with her and exchanged a dozen text messages. Fretting to this degree must surely be insane. That's another part of it. I could write a substantial amount about how I'm feeling right now, about why I want desperately for someone's mind to change. But we're on entirely different worlds.

I'm struggling to keep it out of my mind. I'm procrastinating on work right now to write this. I force myself not to contact again, because, on the other side... it's nothing. It was a good day. It's a missed meet with a potential friend. It's some guy who really wants to reschedule. To me, it's a series of restless nights; to her, it's a series of 140 characters.

I'm waiting now. Waiting and waiting. The longer it goes, the more vast the differences in perception become. And I just want to ask a few questions, really. Well, to start.

I've got a playlist on my iPod called "Me". It's a bit under 3 hours long. I'm pretty proud of how it captures various aspects of my life and weaves it together with some sense of cohesion. Well, now, there's a new addition to that list: "Layla".

It goes right in-between "Dreams I'll Never See" and "Won't Get Fooled Again". For now.

--- 2 seconds later ---

Response was enthusiastic. At least I'm not a perceived psychopath. I forgot to mention that being friends might be okay, too. We'll see.