For over a decade, I've strongly held the belief that if I weren't overweight, then I'd be knee-deep in boyfriends. My weight has always been a source of consternation, followed by my secret dislike for my teeth, my nose, my hair, my eyes, my eyebrows, my feet, and my sadly shaped tuckus. Thusly, when a member of the opposite sex shows interest in me, my first instinct is to think, "Thank goodness there is at least one person in this world that thinks I'm not a complete and total reject. There may be hope after all." Only after that brief respite do I start thinking about rational things like, Do I like this guy or not? Does he like me or did he just want to get a closer look at the rack?
So from this place, you can imagine that I'm both delighted and very uncomfortable with the fact that not once, but twice this week I had the same two men fighting for my attention.
I'm bewildered. It's not comfortable to be wedged between two men competing for your affection. I like them both. I'd be interested in seeing both of them again at some point. Just preferably not in the same place at the same time.