"You're always holding your boobs!"
After months of not being directly addressed by my really, really attractive kickboxing instructor, he finally approached me last night. As he held out his hands to have me reach them with my knees, he laughed and turned off his mic to say those sweet, sweet words.
What do I do? Smile like a horse... and rip the shit out of my lip.
I'm such a moron, but I can't help it. There has never been an occasion in my life where I've been able to keep my cool around a guy who makes my heart flutter.
I'll either:
1) Stand in admiration, in an absolutely creepy catatonic state,
2) Smile, smile, smile (with a smile reminiscent to Mr. Ed's)
or
3) become an absolute klutz and inflict physical harm upon myself.
This stage in my life should have been long gone by now, and it kind of is since the number of dudes this happens around is quite limited.
The kickboxing trainer gets this treatment because... well, he is one of the most attractive "real" people I know. I don't care what words he directs my way, as long as they're directed at me, my body will react accordingly... I will hurt myself.
So, guys, let it be known, if I stare at you quite vacantly, or don't say a word and only smile like a horse (or nod. I'll nod when I'm trying REALLY hard to appear normal) I'm awed by you.
If I manage to hurt myself in your presence... I probably want to have your babies... or not.
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