I'm saying this now, because I fear hormones and flutters may compromise the objective perspective I presently have, but . . .
I've met a boy. And it threw off my workout regimen. I was suppose to go to the gym last night. Instead I had a spontaneous date in a chic basement wine bar in the west side until 1am. I was also suppose to go to the gym this morning at 7:30am. Because my bed time was pushed out 3 hours due to said date, that did not happen, either.
More on the boy later.
For now, I must tell the world this because, boy or not, I'm a girl on a mission. And I can not stop and become a air head high school kid because of a boy.
Even if he's dreamy and funny.
Even if he's tall and sarcastic.
Even if I am convinced his dimples house the Holy grail.
Nope! I am a girl on a mission.
Wait. What was my mission again?
I think I need to see Yoda, STAT!
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