Horrible, Stupid, Silly, Dumb, Terrible... Crushes

As you may have guessed from the title of this entry, I am, at present, disenchanted with the romantic world. It's kind of a long story. Bear with me, because the punchline is fantastic in a terrible way that will make all of you laugh.

So Maine is boring. I believe we have covered this already. If not, here's the Uncyclopedia article on just how boring it is. There are also few boys in Maine during the non school months, and a lot of disgustingly happy couples.

I kind of had a boy. That fell through. Being 11 hours away sucks.

I then realized I still had ridiculous and entirely unjustified feelings for a certain boy who enjoys winter sports. Ridiculous because we already tried it, twice, and it didn't work either time. Unjustified because I was the one who destroyed it in the first place.

Now, I'm trying to get over those. My heart is slowly healing, coping with not only being 11 hours away from what's-his-face but also from all of my friends. This next bit does not help.

So, this weekend, one of my local friends brought some people home from his school to visit. Up until this year, my friendship with this friend was tentative. He's the ex of my former best friend, and we majorly clashed in high school. Now that we're beyond both of those points though, we are actually great friends and I am really grateful to have him in my life.

No. I know what you're thinking. I do not have a crush on him. Read on, dear friends.

So, his friends from school are mostly from other countries. Australia, Ireland, UK, Austria... the list is nearly endless. And they're all awesome. My friend suggested that I should get together with the Aussie, Sam. Well, eh. Sam's kind of a jock, and not really my type, but it was an interesting suggestion.

Then, I met Irish Boy. He's Irish. And FANTASTIC. And completely my type, and funny, and down to earth, and has a great grasp on international issues. He loves good food (except black pudding, yuck) and wants me to come visit all the time this fall because, and I quote, I'm his "new bestie".
Oh, and the accent.

His name is Mark. Actually, it's more than that, but that's what he goes by.

And I now have a ridiculous, horrible , painful crush.

Why am I using these words to describe it to you all? Why did I say the punch line was going to be great? Why am I even daring to write about it on this blog, out in public, where he might find it at any time?



Because Mark is gay.

I have no problem with this whatsoever, except that it means when I come to visit and stay with him, I will be staying in the spare room, and there will never be sweet nothings whispered into my ear in a glorious and lovely accent.

Damn.