Naivety Pt. 1

(Note: If I was being truly honest, this blog would be entited Naivety, Pt. Five Thousand and Sixty-Nine. The following events have actually happened. In fact, they just happened. Please excuse any confusion.)

I did it.

We saw a movie, we had awkward chit chat, we had good chit chat, he suggested we smoke some weed, I politely declined, we ate gelato, we had more awkward chit chat, some more good chit chat, he drove me home, I decided to kiss him...

and this is where things get confusing.

Although he was not the one to initiate said kiss, I pulled away not once, but twice (three times?) in order to go inside.

Simply stated- I was not feeling it.

There were no butterflies. And you, my beautiful readers, should know that I never settle for anything less than butterflies. But if I legitimately thought I might like him and have been observing his obvious cuteness for the past five months, then why didn't I feel butterflies?

Are butterflies created when we need to feel loved? Or are they a cosmic miracle?

I'm going to strike that first idea down- I wanted to feel something with said dude but I didn't. A cosmic miracle, however, is a definite possibility.

Once upon a time I met a boy- a boy who was NOTHING like my type. In fact, he was more akin to self-proclaimed "man-guido of the house" Mike "the Situation" than any Urban Outfitters hottie and his overgrown mandolin. This dude was king of protein shakes and weight lifting and had failed Algebra II. When introduced, I felt nothing except for the excitement of meeting yet another semi-cute new boy. Due to chance (and by now I am positively certain that this was all some sort of sick lab experiment) we started talking at around eleven. We kept talking until eight in the morning, when it was DEFINITELY time to go home. Over the course of a month the inevitable happened- I realized he was a giant douche (hence the Ed Hardy/Jersey Shore reference.) To this day I have no idea what happened on that night to make us connect in such an unlikely way. I attribute it to cosmic insignificance.

But what if butterflies are our body's way of telling us when we truly feel something with another human being?

A friend, W, legitimately liked a boy. She did what any other teenage girl would do- she hooked up with him. When it happened, she felt nothing- no butterflies, no spark, nothing, zip, nada. W felt completely detached. Afterward she consoled in a friend... one thing led to another and they ended up hooking up.

There were butterflies when she didn't even consider him butterfly-worthy.

I've come to a couple of conclusions with these shared experiences. First, that there are two types of connections- physical and metaphysical. Second, that you need both to have a successful sexytime love connection.

And with that I say adieu.

Peace, love, and butterflies,

C