if i'm not infatuated, then you know something's wrong

I am a stalker. There, i said it.
This is like, me on the road to recovery maybe.
But probably not. I kind of like that crush-like feeling that I get everytime I discover someone new and amazing who sips yerba mate, no sugar thank you very much, at all hours of the day. You like mate? I like mate! Let's make out. I am the counter girl Alicia Keys was trying to convey in You Don't Know My Name. I flirt, I swoon, I slip you free things. I try not to stare. But I do. I clean the table next to yours roughly 32 times. I want to make babies with every 23rd customer. I fall in love with Brazilian girls with girlfriends and I try to break them up with gifts of cheesecake and iced chais. This is clearly an illness. But since I am destined to be forever behind a counter asking, "Anything else?" I don't feel like there is any hope for me.