I’ve loved Patrick Stump, the former lead singer of Fall Out Boy, since my sophomore year of high school.
I (kinda) met him and fellow Fall Out Boiii Pete Wentz a few years ago, but I had drool all over my shirt and forgot how to speak, so it didn’t go too well.
Last Saturday, thanks to my jarb, I got to meet Patrick for the second time. I shall illustrate the night with a series of pictures.
This is our first picture together:
This is our second picture together, after I decided my right thumb would look more casual hooked in my Mom-butt-shorts pocket:
This is when I told him “I had the biggest celebrity crush on you in high school.” Note the demeaning shoulder grab/undeniable chemistry (I have no idea why I grabbed his shoulder — my mouth was really dry and I could barely breathe and I was about one fart away from a pantsful o’ crap. Plus, I think I wanted to continue touching him forever):
This is when Patrick responded to my love confession with, “Well… thanks! For… working the show.” It’s also when I laughed uncontrollably because if I didn’t, I was going to start vomiting:
This is when he was all like, “Damn dat bitch scary, I’m outtie”:
This is when, after my friend Amanda persuaded me to wait after the show for another picture (even though I already felt like a super freak), I asked Patrick for a hug… and then to hold my hand:
And finally, this is when I tweeted the hand holding picture to @PatrickStump and said “sorry if I made you uncomfortable — it was worth it for this picture, though” and he responded with A DIRECT MESSAGE!
The night’s events confirmed my love for him even more. Yet, since I know there’s no chance I’ll ever come back from “Will you hold my hand?,” I’m giving him up. But hot damn is he talented, nice, modest, funktastic (musically), and just generally perfect.
He does, however, make me look like a gigantor. He also brings out my painful shyness, making me sound like a babblin baby quicker than I’d like to admit.