A few weeks ago, I was lying awake in bed at 3 in the morning, giggling. I had a good book, (On becoming a fairy God Mother by Sara Maitland) open in my lap, but I couldn’t concentrate. Why? Every single molecule that was Apenyo was focused on a certain guy. Yes, he looks nice, can spell and his behind could maybe win an award for shapeliness. Nothing too special.
I was feeling rotten, ecstatic and nervous at the same time, like somebody who’d been forced to drink several cups of cupid’s urine. Questions like: Oh my God is he thinking about me? Did he look at my fb page today? Shouldn’t I find a clever link to put on his wall? were fighting for space in my head.
Because I like it when people swerve off the path of disaster by taking my advice, here are three things you SHOULD NOT (under any circumstances) do under the influence of droopy-eye-jelly-knees syndrome:
Read their blog (s). Jesus Christ. You will stuff yourself with too much information about your sweet mutimzy and then sound like a creepy stalker the next time you speak to them.
Steal their phone. Whatever your mind tells you, sneaking his/her phone into your purse is a bad idea. I know the plan is to look like a big hero when you inform your crush three days later (after reading all text messages and sending rude messages to your competitors) that you have miraculously! Found! The missing! Phone! This is a horrible idea because you will be found out.
Take the crush too seriously. If you start to have daydreams that feature you bravely giving birth to your crush’s twins in the living room of the beautiful mansion that the two of you live in, and then phoning him breathless but happy to tell him to rush home with an ambulance, you might want to cut down on the time you spend ogling his profile pictures.
So, how do you jump from feeling crush-whipped to feeling fantastic? You want to know? Really? Really? really really? OK.
How giggling kicks despair’s butt.
By hee hee-ing and tee hee hooing, you poke misery repeatedly on the forehead until it stomps away, muttering bitterly like Squidward. You also trick your brain into manufacturing synthetic endorphins. As you giggle, your throat spasms in a way that your brain associates with laughter. Your teeth are in the air. Under all this peer pressure, your brain has no choice but to suck it up and reward you with happy-hormones. WIN. Also, if you can tickle yourself, go ahead.
Giggling saves you from the ugliness which comes as a result of frowning because of your crush induced misery. Come on. You can’t lose twice. OK, so your object of affection doesn’t feel the same way or you’re being tortured by the gorgeousness of their face. That’s no reason to get ugly about it.
Lastly, it can be turned into shoes. How? Right now, as of this warm and fart-y (or cold and drippy) Sunday, I’m spending your eyes on an article about giggling/crushes. At the end of the month, I shall cha ching my way into a new pair of shoes. You feel me?
Do you know any despair busting methods that don’t involve giggling?