There's this guy that every once in a while I will fantasize about dating. I have only met him a couple of times and every time I've seen him I've been a horrid bitch, but I heard through the grapevine that he likes me. Last time we saw each other was at my brother's wedding, during which I made an ass out of myself. Tears of joy, tears of sadness, vomiting in a garbage bag, stealing beers from other wedding guests. When I'm under pressure I freak out and I drop the ball completely. Without fail, I will fuck up. Maybe it's my unconsciousness trying to manifest how freakishly tormented it is at the moment by destroying everything in its path, maybe I just like to party too much-- who knows.
The thing about this guy is, we have nothing in common. I know this, obviously, because I check his facebook every so often. He loves football (or any sport for that matter), grilling, living in big cities, looking confidently into a camera and smiling, and hiking. These are normal man things, which sounds amazing for me at this precise moment. Simple things to give us comfort in our home, but obviously a modern couple on-the-go. I'm already imagining what the interior design of our kitchen would look like.

Apparently something about INFJs is that they are always lost somewhere in the future, building fantasy worlds out of mere possibilities, and we are therefore very romantic and idealistic. I think it's fascinating that I can be categorized. I'M NOT A DELUSIONAL STALKER I'M AN INFJ, GET IT? The sad thing is, this makes it incredibly difficult to fall in love with someone for who they really are; I'll be a million light-years away, completely overlooking them.