Boys

I like them. I guess you probably already knew that, since the blog is dedicated to them and the things that made them die. But what I mean here is that I like the live ones, the general boy population. I mean this right now. This may be a brief window so I figured I should probably exploit it while it can. Then I can come back and read this when I start hating on them again.

I forgot how cute they can be. On my birthday I went dancing with NU and my sister at a hipster bar on Britpop night. I had no idea that dudes 10 years younger than me could know the words to "Metal Mickey," but some do. And they are adorable. There were three of them who danced with us that reminded me so much of my first boyfriend and his Morrissey-worshipping friends--they kind of emanated a sexual confusion or frustration that was acted out by jumping on each other. This looks horrifying in print, but trust me, it was cute. It made me nostalgic, especially since we were dancing to all of my anglophile college music. Later, one of them grabbed me. I turned around to look at him and he gave me a totally stoned and adorable smile. Hours later I realized I could have gone to some dark corner and made out with him...yes, I'm still kicking myself. He was probably 24, tops. Also a gay guy hit on me. Maybe he wasn't gay. Or maybe nowadays gay guys want to date girls; I haven't dated in a while. He was really cute too. Was probably unborn when the Smiths song we danced to was popular.

I know I need to date older guys. I like them too, I think. What I'm saying here is that I kind of remember now what the big deal was. Why I spent most of my life boy-crazy. I like them. It's ok to like them. I like myself too now, so liking them will probably be different. I like the weird ways they attempt to emote. I like their clothes and their glasses. I like it when they travel in awkward packs. I like trying to figure them out.

I sense that there will be drama in my future.