A CHEESY POST: LOVE PROBLEM REDUX

(Foreword: I believe every man is entitled to at least one cheesy post every half a year, so I am exercising that right now. The sentiments I have expressed in this post are not alcohol- or drug-induced. I was neither drunk nor drugged when I wrote this post. This is an honest, straight-from-the-heart post. Time to bring out the popcorn!)

Here I go again, infatuated with someone for no obvious reason. She’s not the prettiest girl I’ve seen (that would be my schoolmate, Jurise), nor is she the sexiest (that would be the girl working in the office adjacent to ours). She doesn’t even exude that feistiness I love (that would be a tie between my ex-officemate, Maycee and my former classmate, Mariz). She doesn’t even have that saintly, innocuous, “I’m-the-friendliest-most-approachable-girl-you’ll-ever-meet” vibe that mesmerizes guys (definitely my officemate, Margarita). But heck, I like her. And I don’t even know why exactly.

I guess the hopeless romantic in me woke up once again to stir up my otherwise insipid, unexciting life. Maybe every human life––my own, included––does deserve a few bursts of novelty and excitement every once in a while. Or maybe I just want to love and be loved again after being single for almost a year now (Actually, make that almost two years since I never felt loved by my ex during our last year as a couple.).

This post is getting cheesier and cheesier, but hey, I believe every man is entitled to at least one cheesy post every half a year.

Moving on….

This girl I like––she’s single according to my friend, who also happens to be her friend and our officemate. This is the classic “good-news-bad-news” paradigm: It’s good news in a sense that it’s okay to court her, yet it’s bad news for me since it’s okay to court her, which means I have no reason not to court her which is troublesome because I know that courting her will only bring me to the precipice of a possible rejection, which, if it happens, would drown me in a sea of sorrow and anguish which would eventually lead to days of sulking, soul-searching, and extended trips to videoke bars drinking the night away while singing the cheesiest love songs composed by the cheesiest artists ever born, like Lionel Richie. (Ha! I have bent the time-honored rules of sentence construction! Exasperated yet? Great! Read along.)

So now I have to make a decision. It’s not a live-or-die decision by any means, but in a sense, it’s somewhat a life-altering one.

Court her or not?

Do or don’t?

All-in or fold? (Ah, I’ve always wanted to put a poker reference in my blog.)

Maybe I need a beer... or perhaps a coin...