Please don’t ever stop stalking me. I rather enjoy the mysterious conversations we have. I love that you know Latin abbreviations (e.g.: i.e.). It’s really kind of flattering that I have a stalker. Makes me feel loved. I’ve made a list of my perfect guy, and (in my head) you fit into each category. Here’s the list:
he’s funny; he’s smart (…er than me); he speaks English and uses it well; he loves corny movies; he is not an alcoholic or drug addict (pot head acceptable); he wears sandals; he loves the outdoors; he is an auto mechanic (this is so I can own a classic muscle car without having to worry about costly repairs, he could also just be rich); he’s creative and loves art; he’s attractive, but not too attractive; he’s at least 6’; he’s not jealous of my guy friends; he wants to have children one day; he is not married; he’s not... really hairy; he thinks electronic music is the dopest shit ever; he’s geeky; he’s at least a little Irish; his last name goes with “Claire”; he uses words like “esotericism”; he’s a collector of esoterica; and he loves his mother.
If this is not you, lie to me.
I do, however, think that our stalker/stalkee relationship is probably unhealthy.
Thinking fondly of you and waiting patiently for your next stalker comment,