I suppose today is as good a day as any to reveal how I stalked and harrassed some dude online. How, at the merest crook of a finger, I whipped my portfolio at him and asked him to love me--LOVE ME!--with shameless abandon. How I tied a ribbon in my hair, and scrubbed my face, and swept the dustbunnies from my website and waited. How I called my mom and chattered and sang about castles and footmen and what ballgown I would wear to my first appearance at Comicon.
Of course this was all done with the strictest artistic modesty, and anyway, all of my attempts were rebuffed, if ever they were noticed. But it makes it no less embarassing. And it does nothing to erase the twenty minutes spent simpering and curtseying in front of the mirror: "Mr. L___, it's a real honor." "So very nice to meet you, Mr. L___." "I cannot tell you how long I've waited for this, Mr. L___." "Oh! You don't mind if I call you R___?" "Well, thank you!"
Swoon and faint and smelling salts.
Because Mr. L is just the sort of gentleman to carry them.
(All initials changed).
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