So I still have my crush on Dr. Cyanide. And also, by the way, crushes suck. I don’t think the Doctor knows that I have a crush, but if he had any idea about it he’d TOTALLY know about it because of how often I act like a total goober because of it! Like I’m WAY too enthusiastic about anything that results in my helping him out. Get him coffee? Sure! Help him with a meeting? Fine! Clean his house? OKEE DOKEE! Well, maybe not the last thing.
Also I think I’ve actually blushed a couple of times. I have several problems with that, not the least of which is I DON’T BLUSH!! I have never been a blusher and I pride myself on my non-blushiosity and so when I realized the other day that either I was blushing or someone had set fire to my face I was SUPER peeved! Plus embarrassed. Which does the same thing as the blush. You can see, I’m sure, the vicious circle here? Stupid blush.
Today I saw him coming up the stairs and had a TOTALLY VALID WORK QUESTION to ask him so I waited in the hallway. Which I would have done for anyone else in the same situation, so I wasn’t doing ANYTHING wrong! He popped out of the stairs and saw me and said “waiting for me? Wow, I’m being stalked!” which was funny, and meant to be funny, and if I’d had any brains I would have said “oh darn, you’re on to me! Guess I can stop bringing my binoculars to work!”
That’s what I should have said.
But the stupid crush got there first and that’s not what I said. No, instead I said this:
“Hmmm? What? Oh no! No, not at all! No, not stalking, I was just waiting is all. Because I saw you coming, that’s all. That’s all it was.”
And then I burst into flames and collapsed as a little pile of stupid, crushy, embarrassed damn dust. Is all.
Also the next 20 minutes were full of my brain chewing that idea up into smaller and smaller pieces:
Stalking, me? Stalking? No, I’m not, right? I’m not! There’s plenty of time when I’m not! And besides, is it stalking if I’m being paid to do it? (gee, is there such a thing as a professional stalker? No, probably not.) I bet he was joking. Right? He was, he had to be. Because if he wasn’t joking that means he knows I have this stupid crush, which he does NOT know because if he knows I’ll have to set fire to myself, which I could probably do just by putting something flammable next to my face when I blush WHICH IS PROBABLY HOW HE KNOWS ABOUT MY STUPID CRUSH OH MY GOD!
So, in short, I’m going to have to either quit this very good job, kill Dr. Cyanide or marry the very next person who wanders near my radar so as to throw suspicion off of myself. I’ll let you know which thing I decide to do.