She met a crazy guy.
She didn't think he was crazy at first. She thought he was quite sane actually. She was loud, he was clam. She was singing, he was nodding his head with the beat. She was dancing, he was smiling.... They sat together. He talked, she listened. She talked, he listened.
She liked the crazy guy.
For a while, a few days or so, she thought he liked her too. He responded to her but never did she respond to him, simply because he never initiated anything: a chat, a talk, a meeting... It was always her and her only. He responded always, then usually, then sometimes, then barely. Soon she realised, she had no reason to think he liked her.
She was confused.
She stopped everything. He stopped too. She waited. Nothing. A few days passed. She called. He answered. They talked. He talked. She realised he was crazy.
She liked him even more.
His craziness was the excuse she used to calm her pride. They met in a crowd. He disregarded her presence. She said it was ok, because he was crazy. She missed him though. She refused to give up and got his attention. He was nice. Very nice. She jumped, he jumped. She ran, he ran. She left, he drove her home. She was happy. He seemed happy too. She felt it. Crazy guy liked her.
She was no longer confused.
The next day came and it all started again. He didn't initiate anything: a chat, a talk, a meeting... It was always her and her only. Her pride was furious. She didn't know what to do. His craziness -which was the catalyst of her attraction, her effort then her insistence- was now unbearable.
She called the crazy guy.
He didn't answer. She called him again. He didn't answer.
He never called back.
She was a crazy girl.