So, there’s this guy.
I’ve dubbed him Swedish Model Boy, although I’ve recently been made aware he looks more German. I’ve had a total of, like, two conversations with this man. It doesn’t matter, though: I’m a smitten kitten anyway.
It’s the eyes, it’s the hair, it’s his preppy style and the way he held eye contact during our conversation. Simple, surface-level things that made me giddy at that moment.
I’m almost certain he doesn’t know who I am. This only makes him more appealing and lower stakes in a way. I never forget a face and I won’t ever forget this man’s striking face card.
I kept hoping we would cross paths again. Maybe we’d bump into each other at a coffee shop. Maybe we’d pass each other on campus and smile, wave and—I pray—have another conversation.
In an indirect way, this did happen.
Every time I walk back home from classes with my housemates—who I should mention are some of my closest friends—I see Swedish Model Boy. Twice a week. Same time, same spot.
The first time I noticed him, my heart swelled a little and my stomach got a little flippy. Now, I depend on it.
I tell my housemates everything. I’ve filled them in on my past crushes and they definitely hype up my delusions. I told them about my conversation with Swedish Model Boy and emphasized that his looks could kill. They sure got me.
But I didn’t tell them about my biweekly sighting of the man.
One day, I was trying to slow down our normal walk home after our class got out early. Partially because I was exhausted—we had just taken an exam—and partially because I wanted to catch a glimpse of that eye candy.
We eventually sped up because they walk faster than those Olympic race walkers.
Later that evening, we joked about my slow walking and I blurted out that I needed to see my Swedish Model Boy.
Dumbfounded and slightly offended that I didn’t tell them before, they told me to go sleep with our pet skunk outside—and to point him out the next time we walk back from class.
So, here’s how it went.
My eyes flicked up to about a hundred feet away from where he usually stands. Swedish Model Boy had been spotted.
“Guys. White shirt. Glasses.”
“Tall?” my friend asked.
“Yes.”
A chorus of “damn” and “I approve.” Plus a fist bump from my equally delusional friend.
Let me reiterate: I’ve had two conversations with this man. Smallest of small talk.
At this moment though, the pros of this delusionship outweigh the cons. Simply standing where he does as I walk back from class provides me with my weekly dose of stomach butterflies. And the possibility of someday having another conversation keeps my wild imagination satisfied.
Pathetic, I know. But don’t judge me on my fixation with my delulu boo.
If you’ve got a delusion-ship going, maybe a coworker has captured your heart or a certain campus crush comes to mind. Bonus points if they’re already in a relationship because all the good ones seem to be.
Here are my tips:
- If it makes you excited and no one is harmed in the process of your imagination, keep that delusion-ship going.
- Keep your mind in check. This should be fun and a little childish: no distress should be involved.
- Now, this one is important, so listen up. If you find out they’re not in a relationship and you get the chance to make a move, MAKE THE MOVE. Just like your mom might say, ask them out for coffee.
When life gets monotonous and the mid-semester blues hit you hard, find a cutie and get delulu. It’s exciting, it’s fun and it doesn’t hurt anyone.
On that note, Swedish Model Boy: if you’re out there, if you’re single and also maybe think about me, come find me.
