I BLAME....

I blame you for this.
It’s clearly your fault.

With your piercing black eyes
And your lopsided grin
And your sexy black hair
And your tall, slim frame
And those stupid jeans…
…Which fits in all the right places.

Sitting here, I think back to the first time I saw you.
Five weeks and two days ago (but who’s counting?).
And every day on the elevator, I’d stare at your back,
Trying to work up the courage to say something.

I did once, remember?
I asked what floor you wanted
And you told me the fifth
And my heart started racing
And I nearly passed out
And I smiled the rest of the week…
…Simply because I’d heard your voice.

Imagine my shock when I saw you at the coffee house.
I didn’t know what to do; how was I to proceed?
Immediately to hide between the Arabian Mocha Java and the Yukon Blend, as it turned out (I wasn’t even there for coffee).

It didn’t work, you saw me anyway.
And to my horror you started up a conversation
And to my astonishment, I actually responded
And somehow you made me feel comfortable
And I thought I was dreaming when you asked me out…
…So of course, I said yes.

So, here we are now, in a restaurant, on a date.
I don’t understand what’s happening to me, why I’m actually talking.
I’m so nervous, I don’t even know if I’m being coherent, what with this stupid inner-monologue running through my head.

I thought I’d accepted how socially inept I am
And I’d resigned myself to never meeting anyone
And I was OK with that
And so I never expected you to talk to me
And I never expected you to smile and laugh at my lame jokes…
…Which confuses me to no end.

Because I’ve really never felt this way before
And I don’t know what to expect next
And it scares me that I can’t predict anything
And I feel like everyone’s staring, and that my world’s caving in
And I blame you entirely for this…
…For making me so damn happy.