As I mentioned yesterday, it was my first day back to work after my vacation. Everyone there knows about my van exploits, so I was greeted with much "Welcome back!" and "Are you OK?" It was very satisfying to know everyone cared so much.

After being away for so long, I was very eager to go to Starbucks and greet D., ask how New Jersey was while we touched and oh-so-lightly grazed skin, gazing at each other longingly, with goofy grins and lust in our timid little hearts.

No such luck. He wasn't there yesterday, either in the morning or during my late lunch. He wasn't there this morning either. And after I went all to this trouble to wear something alluring, yet appropriate for work. Rats.

Of course, this got me to thinking. Always a dangerous thing, I know, but sometimes I just can't help it.

Why, oh why do I become so easily obsessed? I've always known this about myself, and have always been able to keep things in perspective, but it's still frustrating as hell. Is it because I love men and love being in a relationship? Well, that's certainly a part of it.

Sometimes I still feel like an unpopular, unattractive adolescent, grateful for any positive attention from the opposite sex. (Hey, he's being nice, he must like me!) I realize that's no longer the case, and I've had no problem turning down guys that I'm not attracted to (not an everyday occurrance, by any means). Still, it irks me when those old insecurities come rearing up.

It doesn't help when my hapless targets do things that lead me to believe that they might be interested. Joking suggestively, touching the small of my back when going up and down stairs, or just smiling mightily when I converse with them. Maybe I just suck at reading signals.

I'll be ok, and I'll move on, if need be. Just getting a little tired of my serial obssessions and tired of boring my friends with stories of the latest Mr. Crush.

Just a short one today. After yesterday's novel, I'm not in the mood for an extensive entry.

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