Lately I've realized that I am the equivalent of a third grade boy when I have feelings for someone. You know the boy that used to try to wipe his boogers on you, steal stuff out of your desk, and generally poke fun at you all the time making your 8-year-old self miserable? Yeah, that meant he liked you. And he thought what he did was funny, and probably hoped you thought it was funny too. He was probably all 'hey, this school shit is so boring. Let me do something to distract both of us from it and maybe you will talk to me' and you're all like 'wtf - I'm trying to learn the capitol of Wyoming, and you're being a bitch.' Ahh young love.
As long as anyone I'm with understands this very strange way that I show affection, I think I'll be ok. I think deep down somewhere I have that gushy squishy part of my that wants to write pretty letters and make mixed CDs, but ultimately I just want someone to understand that the ultimate token of my affection is my own realization that they aren't perfect, I'm not perfect, and I'm going to exploit that fact with wit and sarcasm and celebrate in the freedom that comes with seeing an imperfect person perfectly.
Oh, and if I want to have sex with you, like, a LOT of it - that's usually a pretty good sign too.
-JC
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