Do You Like Tacos or...?

I am a firm believer that what goes on under the sheets and between the legs is private business for every single person who wants it to be. Whether that is if you lead a very sexually active life or what your sexual preference is at the end of the night, to me, none of that matters. Sometimes people are extremely open about their gender/sexuality/sex life/whatever, and others would really rather keep that to themselves. Either choice is fine.

But I'm not going to lie. I have had some friends over the years that have seriously made me think about what kind of person they are. Some people are just harder to read to find out that kind of information. I'm talking "Great Expectations" hard. I found myself thinking about what my friends' sexual orientations were and whether they were virgins or not. For some unexplainable reason, I was extremely curious about this stuff. I turned to mutual friends and whispered in the shadows, "Hey, do you know if he's gay?" Sometimes I got answers, and other times I just had to go straight to the main source.

As always, my conversations with people are so awkward and so "ugh-I-don't-want-to-have-to-ask-this-right-now-let-me-die"

Me: Hey

Friend: Oh, hey!

Me: So, uh, I have a friend...

Friend: Yeah?

Me: And, uh, they asked me if you were...

Friend: What? A serial killer? HIV positive? The Famous Jett Jackson? Bringing da noise, bringing da funk? Bluffin' with my muffin? Rocky mountain high? Heir to the Genovian throne? Just somebody that you used to know? A Pisces? 

Me: GAY! 

Friend: Oh. No. I'm straight. 

Me: What about those other things? Are you the heir to the Genovian throne?

Friend: Shhhhhh *backs away slowly*

It is truly none of my business if someone likes boys or girls or neither or if they like to have lots of sex or not have any at all. But, like all great people in history, I can be too curious at times. 

At the end of the day, though, knowing or not knowing that information about a friend or classmate or random Subway employee that made me a really good sandwich once really doesn't matter at all. I'm not even just saying that right now. 

Well, it does matter because if I do know I can either A) fall madly in lust with you or B) ship you with another one of my friends. But those are like the only reasons I would ever truly need to know anything about you. Yeah. 

If your pants are full of secrets, though, I'm probably going to do some investigating. Oops. My bad. 

Crossin' & Creepin'

Well, do they?

So, my best girl friend who isn't Julia, Darian, likes to constantly keep me in-check with the outrageous things that come out of my mouth. She calls it crossing lines. Sometimes I'm just a toe over the line. Other times, I'm crossing so many lines that it's impossible to keep track. It's important to note that I rarely think about what I am going to say before I say it. That just takes up time that I could be talking and the other person could be responding. Plus, it just keeps people wondering what kind of magical stuff is happening up in my noggin all the time. Like, holy shit, what is this girl going to say next because there is no way she can top that? And, you know, I'd rather be an awkward enigma than a walking, talking computer reading from a socially-accepted script like the rest of society.

I live on the 11th floor of my residence hall (do not call it a dorm. I will go all off on your ass if you do), so my elevator rides normally pick up a stranger or two. This is always fun for me because I can either talk to these people and be a normal, social person, or I can shy away in the corner admiring the luscious ringlets of Heaven flowing from their heads in secret. Sadly for me, I normally don't keep many of these admirations or thoughts to myself.

Me: *in elevator alone praying there aren't any pointless stops*
Elevator: *suddenly stops on a random floor*
My thoughts: Shit.
Stranger: *gets on the elevator equipped with tons of swag*
Me: *notices they have great hair/eyes/legs/shoes/etc*
Me: You have really beautiful eyes.
Stranger: Uh, thanks.
Me: *silent for the rest of the ride* 

Every. Single. Day. Of. My. Life

Back home, at a QuikTrip gas station, there is a guy who works at night, and, without fail, every single time I see him working, I always make a comment about his name tag. See, it says his first name and then his last initial, which is an "S." So, I always ask him if the "S" stands for sexy. I don't know why I do this. This guy isn't even that attractive. It's just an uncontrollable urge.

Sometimes I cross lines with my friends. We'll just be talking about something totally normal, and, like the freak of nature that I truly am all the damn time, I suddenly take the topic one step too far and it just becomes this huge awkward silence of disapproval. They'll just be staring at me like, "Angela, why did you just say that? That was totally uncalled for. ugh. You're ruining our lives."I just feel like a nuisance because I can't truly ever censor myself. Or, if I do censor myself, I just censor the completely wrong thing, so I still say something that I probably could have kept to myself. Or, even worse, I'll just stare at people. I like to observe things that seem so normal to everyone else. Like, people in lines at stores or fast food joints. I'll try not to make it too obvious, but, ya know, if they notice that I'm staring, that's cool.

I don't mean to be such a creep sometimes. It just happens. Like, I can't just change that. I'm a socially-challenged writer. How am I ever supposed to fully understand human interaction unless I standby in the shadows being awkward and saying highly inappropriate things to other people? Simply, I can't.

I'm just a psych evaluation waiting to happen.