March 16, 2002
Celtophile
Do you know what I look for in a boy? Honestly, honestly look for? All my life, or rather, that bit wherein I have been looking, I have always said a sense of humor. But I've been lying and not even realized it.
Sincerity. I want sincerity. I want them to say something and mean it, know the motives behind their actions. To be honest, even if it means hurting me or someone else. To be a person who is true to themselves and everyone else. To be sincere is to oftentimes encompass those qualities that are also much sought after.
Too bad I scare boys. Else I could find me one of those honest chaps.
I talked to Ryan on the phone today. He was sitting outside with some of his friends, as generally tends to be his environs when he calls me. I wonder if it is so with everyone else.
I don't know why but I feel certain that he has another girl already. I am almost sure of it. I am certain, as well, that he had her in his eye before we broke up. Not that he did anything, mind you, merely that he noted the attraction.
And then, when he was free, he could take advantage of it.
This feeling, coupled with my intuition claiming that I shall not find another so soon or so easily, is not making for a pleasant evening. And now I get to work until seven o'clock in the morning.
Bus boy Owen had a surprisingly vulnerable and cute moment last night (morning?). He went back and sat in one of the closed stations and put his head half in his hands, staring off into space in the general direction of the entrance/hostess station. I didn't fool myself into thinking he was looking at me, far from it, I am sure.
I went back there after awhile to collect the silverware rolling materials and questioned him as to his odd behavior. He claimed he was wiped, and then proceeded to tell me sleeping was overrated.
Not so.
At any rate, he looked more than cute all sleepy eyed and casual. I had the irresistable urge to kiss his forehead, as one would do to a child before tucking them into bed.
One thing is for sure. I'm not going to be tucking anyone into bed anytime soon. Child, lover, or otherwise.
astera at 7:40 p.m.