The other day while walking through the Wilk I happened to pass a boy wearing perhaps the most unusual pants I have ever witnessed adorning a human body. I was giggling to myself until I saw his face and realized that it was a boy I had a giant crush on freshman year for about a week (well, the crush was about as giant as a weeklong crush could possibly be). He is British (sigh...love the accent) with brown skin and green eyes (man, I am a sucker for a boy with pretty eyes. Tell you what. It's like a curse). Yikes, that boy is smokin. I met him Friday September 1, 2006 (I checked my journal from freshman year for verification on that one. (Um, let me explain: I am a little bit of a nut about journaling. I can pretty much tell you what I was doing on any given night for the past decade. I have filled 9 journals with my crazy ramblings. And that is not an exaggeration, though I almost wish it was because there is a lot of embarrassing stuff in those volumes. Anyway, back to the story...)) at a women's volleyball game. I had to ask him what his name was literally four times because of the accent as well as the noise in the fieldhouse. And guess what. I never actually figured out what it was. I just gave up asking because I felt like an idiot screaming "WHAT!?" into his ear five times. Four was okay, but five was pushing the limits of social decorum. Anyway, I like to think that we loved each other for the duration of the volleyball game, after which the differences of class (him living in DT and me in Helaman) drove us apart. It would have been asking far too much for us to have bridged the socioeconomic gap. Alas, we were merely two star-crossed lovers for an hour or so.
What is the point of this story, you ask? Men: don't ever buy pants with flanel sewn into the inner thighs and elastic around the bottoms of the legs. Ew. Pretty eyes, but where in the world did he get those horrible pants? Maybe they're all the rage in Europe, but here in the states they just make girls like me laugh to themselves as they pass.