Had dinner with what’s becoming a usual set of two other people. I know them from my old residence hall (they still live there). They’re quiet, non-party people, too (that’s kind of a duh, isn’t it?).

Dinner was good. I still smell like ribs and there’s this really annoying blotch on one of my sweaters from trying to clean off barbecue sauce. None of us wanted to do work post-meal so we went to where they live and watched The Godfather: Part II. I’d already seen it (still remember the day: came home from class scheduling in I think fall semester of junior year of high school; my friends were hanging out at school still and had called me in the middle of the film), but they hadn’t. I understood what was happening this time around. I still liked it the first time I saw it, but now I like it even more. Michael is so fantastically cold and I still adore Tom Hagen.

And then when we were done with the movie it was 1:00 a.m. and the drunk van wouldn’t take me home but my friends were nice and walked me home. I was very touched.

Of course, now tomorrow is hell day, because I didn’t do the homework I should have and staying up late blogging does not help.

Also, yesterday I was Facebook-stalking…I’m just going to call him Walgreens from now on because me and my dinner friends keep going over to Walgreens and finding weird stuff manufactured in Montréal there…and anyway, so I was examining the comments his friends had left him and I saw that one of the other commenters was some seemingly random Asian girl and then someone else mentioned something about a taste for exotic Asians and then I thought about how he had been pretty much the lone non-Asian at Thanksgiving and my stomach sort of inverted. Asian fetish is minus many points. Like, I had already thought I had a near zero chance with him since I recall someone saying some other girl in my dorm was obsessed with him and he is charming and seems rather worldly (and yes, good-looking) so he must have a throng of fan girls already, but I am no competition if what he likes is the whole hot-and-subservient thing. Now I’m like, "No wonder he bothered talking to me! He just needed a fix!"

Since the above is conjecture, I know I am probably wrong (though where and to what degree, who knows?), so I think bothering to give him a code-name is fair enough. I am excited by possibilities.

I am surprised that this crush is being so well-documented by me. Normally I don’t reveal the details even here. I think it will be fun to come back to this and read it later, though. I hope future me is laughing when she sees all this worrying.

I hope, I hope.

At one point during dinner, one of my friends said that she loved ribs, and I teased, "If you love them so much, why don’t you marry them?" and then she mumbled what I heard as, "I don’t think they’d love me back…I don’t think anyone would love me…" I still don’t know if that’s what she actually said, so at the time I made no attempt to offer up some kind of comforting "don’t worry about it you’ll be fine" statement. I was definitely caught off guard—partly because I had never really thought about her having romantic concerns, partly because she certainly seems more sociable than I am so I figured she was one of those people who just finds someone.

It is really funny how silly it seems whenever anyone else says that kind of stuff.

Then again, I am also the person who thinks, "How do/did they do it?" when I find out that someone I didn’t expect has experience with relationships.

If only it weren’t so hard to meet other people who enjoy nothing better than a quiet evening at home.