Sometimes I hate having an XX chromosome-governed brain. It makes me ponder things I would probably never think about if I were a guy.
For instance, if Mr. Wonderful says something like, "I'm sure you'll get sick of me soon enough," or "My stomach feels so fat," my mind (after initially thinking how precious—he's a little bit insecure) wanders down the avenue of Is He Projecting?
I start to worry that maybe he is getting sick of me (or "will soon enough"). That he is thinking my stomach is pudgy. And that he doesn't even know he's feeling this way, so his mental state comes out in backwards comments and projected verbal vomit.
My girl brain then goes into analysis overdrive and I start looking for patterns to help me discern whether he's projecting or just self deprecating. I start weighing the "You still want to hang out with me after 4 months?" questions with the "I suck at pool" self criticisms and then have to factor in his perceived level of interest and the number of times we've seen each other in the past few weeks, divide those by 73, carry the 4 and spin around in my desk chair six times before I can get the answer.
Maybe I need to stick with an Actions Speak Louder than Words philosophy...