Romanticism and the Underexperienced.

So I'm ecstatically happy. Stupid Hormones. Sometimes I like it better when they're imbalanced as per usual. It's more predictable. But then I have to go and do something that gets them all into whack again. And Wham they're back. Don't get me wrong. I'm extremely excited that there's nothing wrong. This really makes no sense without details. But I'm not giving details. Just colors, emotions, and theories. I'm pretty sure that this time, the inanely stupid thing I did was read a "romantic" story. And I'm not usually one to be girly girly. It's a lot of work for me. and ever so slowly it's becoming pretty naturally. I jest partly. Well, at least it was reading an insanely juvenile chick-flick of a book that did it. Verses what usually does it. Or at least has done it previously, more recently. I think it would be better if I didn't go to that extreme again for a long time. Until it's due time. I do understand though, that my body understands the female logic better than my comprehension does. And of course I appreciate that. Otherwise I'd be a caveman. Let me know when I make sense again. It'll be after I stop giggling for no apparent reason.