It's a tale as old as time itself: A lady catches your eye at a bar/on the street/in the avocado section of the grocery store.
It's all wonderful until she drops a small bombshell phrase like, "Oh, my boyfriend loves guacamole too!"
Your first primal instinct? RUN. RUN FOR YOUR GODDAMN LIFE!
Pursuing this is not worth your time – that's what your brain is screaming at you as you continue to chat her up.
Flash forward: The two of you are inseparable and the chemistry is palpable.
She comes over all the time to drink some wine and "have girl time" after a long day at work.
She seems blissfully unaware of the blatant mixed signals she is putting out. Meanwhile, the thought of her face keeps you up at night.
You drop subtle hints, hoping she will see the light and fall into your arms so the two of you can live happily ever after.
Or, ya know, at least make out for a bit.
It hits you that you've become a walking stereotype. You have fallen head over heels for (shudder) a straight girl.
Your steadily growing feelings toward her don't stop you from seeing her every chance you get.
You even dance with the guy she was seeing at the bar one night. You weren't jealous of him. Not a bit.
The sad thing is, you actually really like him. He seems like a really sweet and funny guy so if he could just GET OUT OF THE PICTURE THAT WOULD BE NICE.