I wish I could say that the idea of grabbing coffee with an international superstar was brilliant and the whole thing ran smoothly, so smoothly in fact that we exchanged numbers and became the best of friends, eventually giving in to our emotions and becoming lovers. However, my ‘coffee experience’ with Harry Styles, was far from that. As can be noted, I am socially incapable of holding a conversation, so when Harry asked me questions like “Do you have a boyfriend?”, I didn’t answer as a ‘socially capable’ person would, no, I charmingly replied “what a stupid question, look at my hair”. Safe to say he was quite confused by that and honestly, so was I. “So your hair reflects your love life?” He carefully questioned, “Doesn’t everyones?” I countered, I sighed when he gave me a confused look and continued “Your hair is a external expression of your feelings, for example, I have pink hair, obviously i’m lacking any kind of excitement, boyfriend included” he laughed and I became confused because I was serious. “So...what does my hair say about me then?”, “that you try too hard” I answered immediately, without thinking of course, I never really think do I? He didn’t laugh, he didn’t even smile, he just stared at me and eventually muttered “blunt”.

From there conversation dwindled to comments on the weather, which was a sure sign that I would never see this boy again, which was fine by me. I always found it easy to detach myself from people I met, I never felt any sadness in the idea of being alone, because honestly I never thought I was completely alone, I mean I did believe there was a God. Thoughts about life on that large of a scale always tripped me out, it made me feel weird, like when you think about what breathing is, and you suddenly forget to breathe.

Harry never asked for my number, nor I his. We awkwardly hugged, well he hugged me, and then I walked away hoping to never see him again, hoping to never be near him again, that was before I saw us plastered over just about every magazine at the BP near my house.

I picked one up and first examined myself, I looked okay, my eyes weren’t closed or anything and my outfit was cute, I really liked those shorts, I mean if I hadn’t been pushing him and my facial expression wasn’t a formation of fury I would have actually been pleased, aside from the fact that they stated I was a “crazed fan”. I brought one and grinned at the guy who was working, he raised his eyebrows when I stated that it was me on the cover, “i’m the “crazed fan” who pushed Harry Styles” I whispered, I was trying to sound menacing but he just laughed. I think i’m going to enjoy this, its about time I got to do some damage here.