I found the love of my life.
I've seen her around bloomington for 3 years and been attracted since the first time. (She's the one in front of the window.) Every time i see her it was because of random chance and this was very exciting!
I was grabbing some late night food at jimmy john's and i hear an oldie from the cardigans (something from their first album; which is one of my favorite albums), i turn and looked it was this fucking girl i have eyed for for years. Of course i didn't talk to her and had to take a foto of her.
The story is usually worth more then the reality of the fantasy.
Sartre, while in the navy, had an experience at a bar which will explains the previous line. He had been on a ship for some time, went to a bar, met this beautiful, absolutely gorgeous woman who was sitting next to him. He didn't talk to her but tried to gather all his guts to do so. She got up went to the restroom as Sartre stayed seated and waited as he fantasized about the night he would be spending with her. The passion, the romance and the sex at a motel that would last all night long. But before the woman came back, Sartre had made up a beautiful story of the night spent with a lonesome beautiful woman. He got up and left the pub and never to come back to see her.
I'm pretty sure it was Sartre that said all this about himself. i read it somewhere. I'm not 100 percent though.