Showing posts with label guy-obsessed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label guy-obsessed. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

My First Crush

Twas many years ago. A hot summer had just ended, and I was starting eighth grade in a new continent, country and school. Having recently discovered my hormones, I was all into unconciously checking the boyzz out, but no one had caught my eye as such.

Till he came.

We had a party one day.
And he came.
Home.
To my house.
I was seeing him after years.
I don't recall ever noticing the fact that he was male, before.
Now it was all I could see.
We'd known them before we moved, and now we were back, he was yummy--and they were moving.
Away.
To a different city, a different world, for all I could care.
Away.

And I haven't seen him since.

And my love-life hasn't gotten any better since then either.

Sigh.


~Singly yours, Sam


Monday, April 2, 2012

And we're back to talking about guys.

UPDATE: This post requires way, way, way more context. Suffice to say that neither of us are giggle twelve year old One Direction fans, and that I do not spend all my free time telling Marsh that I love her. The only reason this is still on here is for posterity, and it might be better if you just skipped it.


Fortunately, this time I'm not the one doing the (c)raving.

Remember my friend the Marshmallow? She's back! And she can read Arabic and has an insanely inappropriate crush on Zayn Malik. The rest, I'll leave you to figure out for yourself.




Marsh: So I'm following this blog which states random "amazing" facts about One Direction. Today's fact was "Zayn can read in Arabic" and I was like, "YOU DON'T SAY!" -_-

Me: Ahahahaha! God I love you Marshy! Enough to spend actual balance to tell you that. You just made me literally laugh out loud when I was all depressed about how every other guy out here is hot. [I'm travelling.] I finally got what you mean about hotness being painful.

Marsh: See? You should listen to me more. Hotness was created as a tool for sadism.
Seriously! When I read that fact I was like "OF COURSE he knows how to read Arabic! Half the people in the world know how to read Arabic! His freaking NAME should've been an indiciation to the fact that he knows how to read Arabic! Even I know how to read Arabic! Gah!

Me: Seriously. Annoying. And now I can't even take comfort in the fact that I'm a nice, non-sadistic person anymore.
I LOVE YOU! That message is going in my "epic" folder. And. Being able to read Arabic IS amazing to most people you know. Including me. Like being able to read Chinese or something.

Marsh: Dude, there are more people in the world who can read Arabic than who can read Chinese. But yeah.
I saw this interview in which they asked him that if he was a girl, which guy would he date? And he instantly replied "Channing Tatum". And I was like, "Thats it. This guy is my soulmate."

Me: STOP MAKING ME LAUGH OUT LOUD IN PUBLIC! AND SPEND PRECIOUS BALANCE! DO NOT reply after this. And yes. He's your 17-year old, minor, illegal-to-date soulmate :D

The End.

UPDATE: Sorry, apparently I was wrong about that last bit. Here's Marsh's correction: "HE IS NOT MY 17 YEAR OD MINOR,ILLEGAL TO DATE SOULMATE! HE'S MY 19 YEAR OLD,TOTALLY APPROPRIATE,LEGAL-TO-DATE CRUSH!"


~Sam

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

More ramblings. (This is what I do when I have things to say but not enough to make an entire post.)

Hi.
If you're a hyper-sensitive guy well aware of his manliness who refuses to carry his girlfriend/mom's handbag, you should probably leave right now.
As should sane persons and other people who like coherence in their blog posts.

----------


So first up, if having a baby is anywhere near as uncomfortable as the processes that make childbirth possible, I'm never doing it. Screw experience, one magical moment is not going to make up for nine months of torture. I'll just adopt and pledge my soul to Greenpeace instead.

(Greenpeace because I'm being all eco-friendly by not adding to the population, and because everything-literally everything, from sushi to sanitation- can be linked to the environment. And therefore by extension to Greenpeace.)
(Also, congratulations. You now know that I've never experienced the joys of childbirth.
 (or have I?)
 Bravo.)

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God.
Why, God, why? Why do you hate me? And if you don't, why do you act like you do? Why do you ignore all my sorry's and pleas and thank you's? Do you not care about me? Why did you make me, then, if your plan all along was to leave me?
Why do you not listen to me? Why do you not acknowledge my existence? Why do you ignore all my thousands of thought-messages? Are you not telepathic? But you're God. If you're not telepathic, what hope do the rest of us have?


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Google.
If Google was a person (a guy person) I would marry it. It has everything I want. It's amazing and it's popular, it's successful and it knows everything without being an idiot about it, it looks good and it plays pranks on people, it's unique and it's accessible, it's multifaceted and it has a sense of humor, it's ultra-cute and I bet if it had a smile, it would have dimples.
So there you go. My perfect man is a search engine. 


Though I totally love Sergey Brin, too. Marry me?



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And that is what PMS and a soppy Valentine video from Google does to me.

This post is probably going to come back to haunt and embarrass the life out of me later.



Meh. I'll go eat my Subway now. (Subway <3)


~Sam

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

You know what the worst thing is?


know who my perfect guy is. I know he exists. I know he's out there. I know he's not some unattainable dream.

I know he's out of my reach.

He's perfect.
He has dimples, the most beautiful smile.
He plays the guitar and the piano and sings, and I have every reason to believe he writes well.
He's gorgeous, he's talented; he seems nice.
He's funny, he's modest despite having every reason to be arrogant; he's beautiful.
He's perfect.
His looks, his history, his eyes, his teeth, his hair, his everything.
He's everything I've ever wanted; he's the perfect personification of my ideal man.

Unfortunately, he's also taken.

:'(


~Sam

Thursday, November 10, 2011

This is why I wish I were a gay guy.


"Nice guys are ugly, hot guys are assholes and nice hot guys are gay." Now in graph form. 
The accuracy of this picture is creepy.



~Sam


Wednesday, October 12, 2011

I want Him.

-[2014 me is laughing so hard at this right now. So dramatic, wow.] [2015 edit: No, really, what was I on?]-

I NEED Him. And no, I'm not talking about God, though a few more blessings here and there from Him wouldn't go unwanted either. Is that grammatically correct? Probably not. Do I care? No. I don't even care about the fact that I don't care, that's how far gone I am right now.

I need him. My perfect guy. My hot boyfriend, though I want him to be a lot more than just a hot boyfriend that I can brag about. My soul mate, maybe? My love. The one who makes all my troubles go away, if only for a little while. The one who'll be my treasure, my "precious", my anchor, my harbor, my world. The one who'll make me laugh when I know I'm about to cry, a la Taylor Swift in "You Belong With Me", the one who'll lend me his shoulder and his handkerchief without asking for anything when I do cry, the one who'll love me despite the sniffles and the snot and despite all my faults and neediness. The ark that I can come into after a long hard annoying plain pissing off day (which today has been, in case you hadn't noticed). The one who'll hold me and love me and nurture me and complete me make me so much more than me. The one who belongs with me. The one I can spend the rest of my life with, and no, I do not give a damn if humans are sociologically not created to be monogamous. The one I can rant at and bitch in front of, without him thinking any less of me, because no matter how much you try to unbitch yourself there are certain people who're just begging for someone to bitch about them, who insist on coming in your way no matter how much you try to avoid them, who insist on making you break your promise to, well, to unbitch yourself, who force themselves under your skin and make you want to just tear out your hair (or, alternatively, to punch them) and get them out of your system.

The one who'll be there, all day, every day, perfect and sane, the beach to my ocean, the bank to my river. With dimples ^-^ And I know he probably doesn't exist, and I'm setting the standard too high, and I should just  get used to the fact that no one, NO ONE, can be that perfect, but right now, I just need hope. And even if he only exists in my imagination for my entire life, I will still hope that he's out there, somewhere (only I hope I find him before I marry Mr Second Choice, cuz I really don't wanna cheat on and/or divorce anyone).

~A Slightly-Less-Exasperated Sam

Also, I don't know if anyone is reading this besides moronsorginally (who, by the way, I will always love and remember as being my first real comment-or), but thanks a lot. Also, Malko, for the idea to start a blog, because it's nice to have someone to rant at, even if it's only a blank page. Thank you, love you, and God bless you. And now I sound old. *sigh* 

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Sam's List Of What's Hot And What's Snot In A Guy

[Update: This post makes 2014-me cringe, but I think I'll let it stay for reasons of posterity. Things I really had issues with have been cut out.]

Yes, you read that right. It's "Snot". It was originally a typo, but then we converted it into the real title, 'cuz typos can be awesome, just like us.

Anyway. This was supposed to be a fun post, but I've come to the cruel realization in recent days that I'm not really one of those funny writers who can make people laugh about the dumbest stuff (a la Allie Brosh), but this is something I've always wanted to do, and now whenever I find a decent guy I can conveniently tell him to go check out this link so he knows what is expected of him, so here it is anyway.

That was a long and probably grammatically incorrect sentence. I'm scared that I don't care.


Okay, I'll stop talking now. Bye!

One last thing-in case you haven't realized yet, this is a list of what I do and don't want in a guy. Though you probably know this. But just in case you don't. That's what it is. I'll let you get on with it now.

 Warning: It gets kind of mushy by the end.

*leaves. finally.*


Hair:
What's Hot: Dark or light, I don't really mind. I love Hugh Jackman, I love Owen Wilson, though I'm yet to meet a red head I like. What I do care about in a guy's hair is that it should be natural. Guys with those weird gay-looking fringes whose pics they have outside beauty salons are a total no-no. Pete Wentz's emo style is hot, but I'd prefer a more Hugh Jackman look in my guy. Natural is good. Style it well, i.e., get it cut in a decent way, but please don't spend longer on your hair on a daily basis than I do.
Note: I rarely spend longer than two minutes (true story).
Also, it should be soft and silky, and kind of long so I can run my hands through it, though I looooove military cuts, too.
What's Snot: Rough grungy hair. Fringes.

Hands: 
What's Hot: A close friend of mine, the Marshmallow, is obsessed with a guy's hands. She says they should be large, strong, with the veins kinda popping out-in a word, manly. I agree. Soft, calloused, whatever. Just let my hand feel small and soft and feminine in his. And let his be able to support me, make me feel like the safest woman in the world when he holds me with them. (Aww).
What's Snot: Hands that're smaller than mine. Soft girly hands. Sweaty hands.

Physique: 
What's Hot: Well, he should be sexy ;) I don't usually like the bulky type; I prefer a sleeker look (despite the fact that I'm obsessed with Wolverine). A six pack and all that jazz is fine with me, I just don't want him to look like The Hulk. The physique in general doesn't really matter that much to me though, I think.
What's Snot: Obesity. A guy who's skinnier than me (cuz that'd just make me feel fat). The unhealthy extremes of either thin or fat.


Smile: 
What's Hot: Dimples. Are. Compulsory. If you don't have them, go away.

Coming back to reality, if your smile is nice enough to impress me without dimples, you'll do. But if I had to choose between two men, I'd pick the one with dimples. Jus' sayin'. I think I'm so obsessed with them because I don't have them, and I want my future kid(s) to have at least some chance of getting them (Yeah, I'm definitely one of those future planner people).

Besides the dimples, I want nice, straight, even white teeth. No smokers allowed, thank you very much.

What's Snot: Smokers' teeth. Yellow, holey, ugly teeth. One of those creepy cold smiles.

Style:
What's Hot: I don't want a guy who looks like he lost his way from a Paris runway. I need someone real, and a guy in skinny jeans and a barely-there shirt ain't gonna do it for me. Put on jeans, a decent t-shirt, don't ever, ever  tuck it in, and you're perfect.
PS-I love guys in jeans. Malko doesn't get this: Her response, when I told her this, was, "Don't they all wear jeans?"
What's Snot: Looking gay when you aren't. Ill-fitting clothing. This includes too tight as well as too loose.

Sexuality: 
What's Hot: Straight, of course. I don't want to sound like a homophobe, but a bi guy won't do for me either. I'd just feel creepy if there was a possibility that he might have a crush on my ex boyfriend or whatever.  Bi guys are fine too. Coming to metro-sexuality..meh, not really. I want a guy to take care of himself, but I think waxing and getting your eyebrows done is taking things a bit too far. Also, as I said, I don't primp too much, and it'd be weird if my boyfriend spent longer getting dressed than I did. I'm not too fashion conscious either, so I don't really want a cross-dressing kinda guy. I want my guy to be a guy. Not a cave man, but not covered in cologne and Armani either. But overall, as long as you look decent, and don't primp too much, its fine.
What's Snot: Being gay and dating a chick.

Level of Romanticism: 
What's Hot: You probably know by now (since I'm making a list of the traits I require in Perfect Guy, you should definitely know by now) that I'm an extremely romantic gal. I've spent a long time dreaming about Perfect Guy (henceforth referred to as PG), and the least I expect from him is that he return all those years of dreaming with extensive thoughtfulness. Book a yacht for our anniversary, or just cook me my favorite dinner and plan for a romantic night, I don't really care about the magnitude of the act, just that you put some thought into it. Sorry, but a gift voucher for my birthday after we've been together for a couple of years just won't cut it, though I might give you a little leeway in the beginning.
What's Snot: Buying a gift voucher for our fiftieth anniversary. Worse, forgetting our fiftieth anniversary.

Talents: 
What's Hot: You should know how to cook. Everything. Because I can't, and I really don't want to learn either. I'd rather sit on the counter and sigh over you than cry over onions, thank you very much. That's pretty much the only thing I really require, but being able to sing or play a sexy instrument like a guitar or piano would be..another layer of chocolate on the cake, I suppose (I don't really like icing much). You should also be able to open any cans, and be strong enough to pick me up and make me feel small and dainty. Also, after intensively watching weeks of MasterChef Australia, I've reached the conclusion that I find chefs (especially young, blonde, curly-haired, blue-eyed ones) really, really hot.
What's Snot: Being a lazy, unemployed, aimless couch potato. I need a successful guy who can look after himself, at least, if not me.

Miscellaneous: 
What's Hot: I would love for you to have long eyelashes, but be prepared for some intense jealousy from me if you do have them. The eyes are important-they should reflect your honesty, and be awesome enough for me to be able to stare at them forever. They should also linger on me often. In a nice way, though. Not in a creepy, leery, stalker way.
You also need to be kind, helpful, generous, aware, eco-friendly, confident, and must worship me. You know, the usual.
What's Snot: Being dumb. Not existing.

Mushy Stuff: 
There's nothing else really left for me to say, so I'll just sum up and be mushy here. I want you to be manly, yet gentle; kind and generous, forgiving and thoughtful. I want to be able to lean on you, but I also want you to give me space when required. I want you to be committed. I want you to be there whenever I need you. I want you to know what I want, even when I don't. I want you to worship me, yet be willing to stand up to me when I'm wrong (and trust me, I will occasionally be wrong, as much as I'd like to deny it), and to have your own opinions. I want you to be understanding. I want you to be compassionate. I want you to be human. I want you to be my kind of perfect. I want you to be mine.

I want you to exist.


~Sam.


Saturday, August 27, 2011

Musings, Ramblings, and Longings

It rained yesterday. Not the pouring, depressing kind, but the type where you want to curl up on your non-existent window seat, and stare out the window, look at the rain fall down, and...think. Imagine. Fantasize. Of a guy, maybe, sitting with you, holding you, supporting you. Whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Going for a long, slow walk with you. Holding hands. Making plans. The secret (or not so secret) dream of every girl. Of this girl.


~Sam

[Update: It's 2014 and this post is so cringe-worthy, I actually literally cringed.]