Pretty Pretty What?

I have no concentration. I think it might be a tumor. Maybe I have some strange neurological disease. Maybe I'm smitten. At times I think I'd rather have a tumor. I can at least get that removed!

So, "he" should be named. We're going to call him Mr. Wonderful. He is you know. I'm so smitten with him I make myself gag. We finish each other's sentences. We have the same thoughts at the same time. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't remember whether I've already shampooed or not in the shower.

He asked me if he could call me his girlfriend. Did you hear that?!? He actually wants to call me his girlfriend. After everything I've been through, he's asking permission. Isn't my boyfriend just dreamy?!? I know, I told you, I'm making myself sick.

So we're planning a weekend of just the two of us. We're going to spend four whole days together, uninterrupted by work, or life, or anything else. It will be just the two of us for four whole days. Um...yeah. I'm terrified.

I can pull off the "I'm a pretty pretty princess" thing for an evening. Maybe even a whole day, but almost a week?!? I don't know if I can do that. I am a girl afterall. I need to primp. I need to pluck. I need to exfoliate, and moisturize, and stuff. I'm going to have to take a shit at some point! And I don't shit roses!

I guess we'll see. If four days doesn't send him running, maybe he'll stick around for a while. *fingers crossed*.