My life is a sitcom. I'm serious. My dating life is possibly the most screwed up love life in history. And that includes the kings who married their sisters. Ick.

For those of you who didn't read Part 1 (and you really should, as it's up for the best article for the month of October), here's the run-down: I was asked out three times by a guy I liked, but all three times I missed the fact that I'd been asked out. This year, I was asked to Homecoming (in a limo) by the guy I like, and I missed it again.

Well, it hasn't gotten any better.

My new favorite thing, by the way, is to find a bunch of random seventh grade boys and warn them about girls like me. The goal is to teach them how to ask out a girl they like, but it might be doing the opposite. They are cute - they groan, and complain that they don't want me to talk to them about girls, so I don't, but then they walk up, hoping I will. Ha.

Where to begin? Well, as I wrote in the comments to Part 1, the second boy actually transferred out of my class. The official story is that his parents made him drop the class, but I have a feeling he'd started agreeing with them after the Homecoming crisis. I was depressed. The boy's a year younger than I am, so I don't see him in other classes. So I decided to ask him out.

I absolutely hate asking boys out, but this one was easy. (It was harder to call him about homework!) He was shocked to hear my voice. He was even more shocked when I asked him to the movies; he either dropped something very heavy or fell out of his chair, I'm not sure which. We planned to go out in two weeks; his family was out of town that weekend. All my friends were as psyched as I was. It was creepy, actually - we were turning into that couple that everyone wants to see get together.

Yay! Problem solved, right?

No.

I have never had trouble talking to boys. Ever. (I've had trouble reading them, but that's different.) I talk to lots of boys. Most of them aren't in my grade - a lot of sophomores, and a couple of seniors and freshman. Pretty much every time I talk to a boy, my friends ask me why I was flirting with him. Even if it was something simple like lending him a dollar. I was flirting? What? Well, then it's no wonder I have another boy practically dying to go out with me.