My Heart, The Dumbass

Nora Ephron once said that the worst cynics are actually the worst romantics.  In order to become so scarred or disappointed or burned, you had to have believed wholeheartedly in something to begin with, maybe more so than others.  I am one of those people. Hopeless. 

I am a cynic because my brain knows better.

I am a romantic because my heart is a wild little thing.

And my heart wins every time because she is a dumbass.

Last night one of my guy friends told me that he really likes someone.  He hasn’t liked a girl in about 4 years.  No one has inspired these feelings and every day has been like Groundhog Day (I reminded him that Groundhog Day is way worse than heartache) but he’s still very scared he will get hurt.  He asked me if the possibility of getting hurt is worth it.  My brain hated my answer when my heart answered "Hell Yeah."  And she went on.  "Every moment you spend skin to skin with someone you’re crazy about is worth every tear.  Because being in love freakin’ rocks.  Am I wrong?"  

Who doesn’t love a little love coke?

One butterfly in your stomach is worth the risk of tears.  Someone holding your heart in their hands for a period of time is so much more interesting than guarding it yourself in a cage for all of eternity.  Being on a windy beach at night, curled into someone who smells perfect to you, getting your hair caught in your lip gloss and not caring….I mean, is there a question of whether you go with it or not? No, of course not.  Shut up, brain.  

My poker face isn't nearly as cute as the one who is lost and in love and my heart is so much more charming than my brain.  Isn’t yours?