I did it.
While my friend was training, I walked over with the pretense of saying hello to her. As soon as I walked over, he said, "I see you here all the time! Hi!" He seemed so excited to meet me. 
I swooned.
And after his class was over, he fist bumped me. I'll admit, a fist bump is not the romantic scenario I imagined for when we first touched, but I'll take what I can get. 
I feel like a sixteen year old when I write entries like this. It's like an homage to my highschool days and how there wasn't anything else that was more important than boys. Actually, most of my entries revolve around relationships. I need something else to say.
Perhaps by May, I'll have found a new, more interesting job and with it, be able to use my English degree to some extent. The closest I get to using my education here is when I send emails to various companies and individuals on behalf of my boss and usually, I have to use simple words because the recipient is not even a highschool graduate. Oh, woe is me, not being able to put my parents' thousands of dollars to good use. I literally could do this job with just middle school education. In fact, that's probably how people end up in retail. Frankly, if I knew that this is what I had to look forward to after graduation, I would have probably stayed in education and went for a teaching degree despite how difficult it is to get started in that field with English. But, if my friends can stick it out, I should be able to as well. 
Graduate school? Graduate school. Or maybe some low level courses at a community college. I really need to stop getting so comfortable with keeping my ambitions in my head.
He took a picture of me (and the rest of the class) and put it up online. What is that? He's had this class now for months and he's had all that time to take a picture. Why last night? Because he obviously wanted a picture of me. 
And we're back to the crazy.

I'm cringing. 
Why? Everything.
I will write every day. Even if it's not here. 
I've got to start participating in life instead of passively living through the internet. Participating will get me a lot farther and more accomplished than hiding behind a computer.
At least, I'm hoping. 
I suppose participating means actually talking to adorable boy. But talking to adorable boy is not as easy as pretending to talk to adorable boy, which is why, I suppose, that I choose to not participate.
Yesterday, while I was on the elliptical, I swear I caught him looking at me or at least in my general direction from across the gym. I've done this too many times, though: stared at someone enough that they notice and start staring back, simply because I started it.
Also, I think that's what happened with other guy. 
Because I am a creeper, I may sometimes stare at all of those who work at the gym and other guy may have thought that when I looked at him, I was interested in sleeping with him. Which was not true. I look at everyone in order to throw adorable boy off from discovering my intentions, but I think my staring was misconstrued. At least, I think. Because why else would I be on someone's radar?
Granted, for some reason, I've been spoken to by numerous individuals at the gym recently, so perhaps I'm someone worth noticing. However, it could be because I stare and they've seen and accepted my imagined invitation for being social. Or other guy has taken to announcing my sexcapades to anyone who will listen. I'd prefer the former.
Can I just live unnoticed? Please? I prefer to keep to myself.
That completely defeats my previous motion to participate.
I should just accept that I'm crazy. And hilariously socially awkward.
I'm cringing, again.

I am slacking. Slacker slack slacking.
Let me summar. 
March was cold. Wet with snow and windy. I hate the winter and I hate that it sticks around. I don't understand how Maryland gets these really cold and really hot temperatures. It's probably all very sciencey and any explanation would go way over my head, but I think that Maryland is located more south than north, so our weather should reflect the temperatures more of Florida than Maine. Right? Right. So go home, winter. You're drunk.
Last week, I put an end to the boy that I was so hopelessly stringing along. Pity is not a good base to any friendship and when the person you pity does not have a lot of experience with relationships - or is just socially awkward - things are just bound to end badly. He didn't take it well and he kept asking for a "vote." It was really frustrating. Idealists do not make for good partners. I should do well to remember that.
Also, the boy that I was sleeping with has pretty much stopped talking to me. Thank goodness. Just in time, in fact. Last night, I found out through a reliable source that he has a reputation for having sex with girls who come into the gym.
Gross.
But I could sense it. I can sense those boys from miles away. I told my friend that he probably sleeps around and I was right. It must be my high school experience that has taught me so well. Or maybe I'm just jaded. However, I am glad that we were both just using each other for sex and that no one got his or her feelings hurt. Hurt feelings are too messy. Clean breaks. Clean. Breaks. He still says hello to me in the gym, though. I would prefer no contact at all, as is my usual rule for those that I've hooked up with. Get in, get off, get out, and then never speak of this again.
I'm worse than any boy.
I still love the other boy, though. The tall and blonde one, with his shirt tucked into his pants and his red shoes. I still can't tell if he's watching me like I watch him. I'll probably never know.
And so begins April. It better get warmer. And I better start writing again.