The kind that observe me, understand that I am incredibly strange, decide if they can handle it or not, and they either stick around or get out fast.
Then there is the kind that mistakes my weirdness for coolness.
What do you even see?? I am the kind of person who hangs out in their pj's until three in the afternoon (even when I'm expecting company) and eats spaghetti and potato chips while listening to Stevie Wonder.
Yes, that is what I am currently doing. Sometimes I can be passionate and think deeply while sipping a homemade latte, leaving dark lipstick stains on the rim of my pottery mug. Other times I lay on the floor and weep over my laptop while I stalk endless amounts of Benedict Cumberbatch photos in my bathrobe and mismatched socks, loathing myself for not pursuing a career in British telly.
That man. Good God, what a man.
But the point I am trying to make is this:
I am not a sexy person. I enjoy Stevie Wonder and potato chips any given day of the week, and I have accepted the fact that I will probably never meet any of the men that I find attractive, and that's okay. But I am thankful for the people who think that I'm an interesting person and still spend time with me.
Here's to you, Crazy Ones.
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