I'm convinced, mostly because I didn't start getting my wisdom teeth until I turned 30, that I'm a late bloomer. (At least in some things, like, uh, wisdom teeth.) If I am a blanket-statement late bloomer, that would explain away why I'm so crap at dating -- while all my friends have been entrenched in dating-pandemonium since high school -- and I go years and years and years in between even being interested in a guy.
HOWEVER: In just the past seven days I've developed insta-mini-crushes on a DJ, a tech blogger and an actor.
This feels crazy. It's been years since I've met a guy I've found even vaguely attractive. I think my hormones are trying to tell me something.
32 is going to be an interesting year. I can already tell.