1.) Tongue-tied. That's me. I get soooo tongue-tied. I trip over my exceedingly large vocabulary, trying to sound impressive, but just flail. I try to make connections that don't sync up, stutter, and even start to return to the let-me-bake-you-a-peach-pie-sugar drawl that I worked so hard to get rid of in years and years of voice lessons.
2.) I won't lie about it, and I admit this in the hopes that you won't judge me too much, dear reader. My brain goes straight to what your name and my name would look like linked together and embossed on folded pieces of parchment paper and wrapped in vellum and ribbons. Some girls dream of sex, some girls think about holding hands. I am the product of my mother and grandmother who are convinced that I am, at 23 and 3/4, an old maid. So I think about wedding invitations. (I. Am. So. Crazy.)
3.) Spidey-sense. I get way too perceptive. I note twitches, twinges, the way the green in your eyes is catching the light when you look at me, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh. And then I get all cerebral in my analysis because I have spent years spouting out pretentious nonsense about everything I've had to process academically and so it runs into the rest of my life too. I should have been a chemist. I bet chemists don't try to create meaning out of everything even when it's not there the way English majors are trained to. This dilemma makes me seem space-y. Or weirdly academic in that not-endearing-rather-unrelatable way.
4.) CLUMSY. Tripping, falling, slipping, bumping, bruising, colliding foreheads when we kiss. I'm. A. Mess. And contrary to what Stephenie Meyer teaches us about Bella Swan who boys fawn over in spite of her serious clumsiness, outside of Forks, you just look a little unsteady.
5.) The clumsiness is not aided by the whizzbangflipflop triple backflip marathon that is inspired in my chest by someone I'm seriously in like with. I swear anyone who is in my immediate proximity has to be able to hear it too. And there's the prickles on my spine and the warm-cold-excited-nervous-giggle-up-down-everywhere-in-between-wonderful-fizzy-bubbles-sunshine-on-a-fall-afternoon feeling that is a little overwhelming in it's lovliness that walks the line between incredibly happy and epically melancholy. It makes it hard to focus.
6.) Like a 9-year-old, I am plagued by the giggles. This is worse when you are immensely funny. I will spend the whole day/night/rehearsal/job/photo shoot/dinner date/party giggling and not contributing anything clever to a conversation. Which I imagine is flattering to your vanity. But probably makes me seem remarkably vapid. And I'm actually not vapid at all. I'm just nervous. And you are too funny.
7.) Most of the time, I am not particularly shy or demure, but boys I like make me revert to 12-year-old Ashley who blushed furiously anytime Zach Wright told me hello in the hallway. I guess a rosy flush is nice though, right? Besides. With the glasses, it kind of makes a sexy librarian thing happen. Sometimes.
8.) Fidgeting. When I get nervous and I'm standing, I run through ballet positions. In order. With my feet. I mess with my skirt, play with my hair, nibble my bottom lip, adjust my shoe too many times. This makes me feel less pretty in the outfit that I spent ages picking out in the hopes that your attention might at some point be extremely focused on it. Fidgeting, like other forms of self-sabotage, makes me seem immensely less put together than I am at any other time in my life. And again, a little vapid. Which I have already stressed I am not.
So between the self sabotage and talking way too much about myself and being a total crazy, I promise that if you pause for a minute, get past the frenzy and chill with me, I'm totally endearing, kind of cute, smart, witty. I bake really good cupcakes and plan stunning weddings and write really well. Among other things. Which are positive attributes in a girl.
Like me? In spite of everything? I promise, I'm super great (and only a little crazy) :)
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