I confess. I can't keep up the whole omg-I'm-so-happy-for-no-reason-whatsoever shtick forever. There is a reason. And this reason is a boy.
Except... is it? If you follow my tweets, you'll know that I've been pondering all day about where to draw the line between "boy" and "man." It's a daunting concept-- I'm now old enough to have this be a legitimate concern. Graham, my friend who got married and moved to New York last year, is unarguably a Man at twenty-one. But would I have called him that last January? I don't know. Probably not... but I'd attribute that more to the fact that I was in high school, and high schoolers don't have friends who are Men. And take my big brother, for example. He's funny in the youthful, goofball way, and he always will be, but he's in law school, and he's a man. I don't mean to sound like a Seventeen Magazine advice column, but I can't help but notice that all the Boys around me are suddenly, like, grown-ups.
I could have dealt with that three weeks ago, before I knew Him. But if it weren't already enough that I'm falling for someone more quickly and deeply than I ever have in my life, it's a genuine possibility that I am falling for my first ever, well... man.
Chipotle burritos this year: 1
Nail color: "Mango Mango," L'oreal