I am feeling extremely overwhelmed.

So many things to do and not enough time, so many unresolved dysfunctional sentiments towards myself, so much uncertainty. I am so stressed out right now. Fuck!

Yesterday in London.

I went to the National Art Gallery planning to get an audio guide so as to learn more about the paintings. I walked in and I was greeted by two young me around my age, one of whom asked me if I wanted an audio guide. 

I looked at him for a few seconds before I said, “sure, okay”, in a way that made it seem as if he talked me into it. I asked him how much it was and he said:

“if you’re a student it’s £2.50.” 

I said, “okay.” 

Are you a student?” he replied.

“No.” 

He looked at me puzzled. He had an accent which I’m pretty sure was spanish, but that’s not what distracted me from what he said. I realized what he had said before and laughed awkwardly and said, “Sorry, what’s the regular price?”

He smiled and said “£3.50.”

“Okay.” I said.

He walked towards the counter and rung it up and I handed him my credit card.

“There is a £5.00 minimum for credit card,”  he said.

I looked into his eyes, scanning his face.

“I don’t have any cash. Is there anything else I can buy?”

He shook his head, smiled and half jested, “well, you can buy two.”

“Okay,” I said smiling, still looking at his face.

Puzzled once more with an amused look on his face he said,” are you sure?”

I then realized I did have some pounds in change. “Wait, actually I do have cash!” I fumbled through my purse and poured the change I had into my hand. I looked at it for a second, scanning the amount on each coin. I’m sure from my accent and my pause, he could tell I wasn’t from around here. He started picking out the correct change, telling me how much each coin was. I looked up at him again, into his eyes, once more scanning his face.

He rang me up on the register and asked me if I was from the states. “Yeah”, I replied.

“What part?”, he asked.

“All over, my dad was in the army”, I said.

I looked at his name tag. His name was Juan. I’m pretty sure he spoke spanish. I immediately regreted not telling him that I was Mexican and that I spoke spanish as well. I I began to doubt myself and thought that he might be from Italy, but his name is Juan and his accent is strongly indicative of someone who speaks spanish. Nonetheless, I mentioned nothing.

He gave me my receipt to sign, I signed it, and he then gave me the audio guide and grabbed a map with information. He took a pen and began to mark off paintings on the information map that were no longer at the gallery, and explained to me how the audio guide worked. I kept looking at him, occasionally glancing down at the map so as not to seem anymore awkward than I already had. 

I thanked him, walked off, glanced at him once more, and that was the last time I saw him.

Why do I remember all of this? Because Juan is the best looking man I have ever seen in my life! I looked at his face countless times and I could not find a single flaw. His face was perfect. I felt like I had a “James Blunt- You’re Beautiful” moment. I exaggerate not when I say that he was extremely handsome. He could have been a model. Plus he had a cute accent and most likely spoke spanish, this was like the guy of my dreams.

But I’m leaving soon, I’m way out of his league, and I am pretty sure he is taken. No one who looks like him can be single for very long. Not that I was planning on going back to talk to him again because I am a chicken and he would probably think I’m stalking him, on top of being awkward (if he even remembered me). But still, he was so freaking hot! Actually, no, he was freaking beautiful! :)

London Today!

I’m going to go look at the museums and learn something, yay. :)