The Significance of Unattended Bicycles

I thought I had learned not to trust this feeling, but here it comes again, ready or not, willing or not, benign or not.
We sat together at our own table with our vegetarian dinners and "Float On" was playing in the background, except you could only hear the bass line and the chords changing. I somehow manage to eat less than her, even though she's half my size. I had confessed to her why I like eating at this dining hall on Mondays, even when the vegetarian options aren't good, to see that girl for at least a few more seconds than I normally would. She lays her fork onto her plate and says, in a tone unpatronizing and even sweet, "You really like her, don't you?"
I've made a huge mistake. I've felt too much and done nothing, received nothing. If I was spartan, stoic, more scientific, more discerning, maybe I wouldn't have done this again, wouldn't see anything in where she leaves her bike. Now I'm at that awkward and self-defeating junction: Do I give up, sever all attachment and just think nothing of it anymore, or keep on this feeling, hoping something in it turns to boldness, words, actions perhaps?

Hot Water

Hot water is just fantastic! I just love how I can go to our bathroom down the hall whenever I want and I can experience it. If I've been outside too long with no gloves, I can turn on the tap to rub hot water on my hands to keep them from hurting and drying up. Every morning or evening, I can get up and take as hot a shower as I want. In the dining hall, I can get hot water to make tea with, and then pour in milk and honey and any other thing I want.
I don't know why it makes me so happy. For the strangest reason, I always think of what things would be like without that luxury. Less sanitary, if you look at it pragmatically, but who cares about health? The things to look forward to would diminish by, not one, but hundreds. Cold showers and cold tea, that would be awful. Warmth. How in hell is it so valuable? The sensation alone improves a bad mood, and it's not as addictive as other sensations.
There's a famous study of a baby monkey. He was basically raised by two robot mothers from which he would get his milk from and everything, except one had a soft yellow sleeve over it. The baby monkey soon only accepted milk from the soft robot. I guess maybe that sort of explains it, the value of warmth, I mean. Attachment is created through pleasant sensation. If something isn't warm, it makes the entire environment more hostile. Imagine being a college student with only cold showers and tea available. How difficult would that become?
I love overcast days, but if those little pockets of warmth weren't so easily accessible, I'd have a lot of trouble.
Is that spoiled? I don't think so. No one wants to live without warmth, and if they have to, their life doesn't seem better at all for it. People can deal, and so would I, but it just goes back to the monkey. The whole environment gets better with things like that to enjoy.

I Will Marry 60% Of My Classmates

We were talking about Erickson's psychosocial stages the other day in my introductory psychology class. We got to experiences in early adulthood, which ultimately determine a person's intimacy with other people, or their isolation. This lead to that until my professor said something about our friends now. Some of the people I know now I will still have a close connection to thirty years from now. That's simply the strangest thing to me.
The people I know are from every place. One's from Georgia, most are from Massachusetts, others from New York, Alaska, Michigan, so on. It's crazy to me that the people I casually eat dinner with now, I'll be flying across the country to see them in my middle age. Maybe I'm just not confident in that right now. Maybe I'm a cynic at the moment, can't see any of that happening either because I think people'll be too busy or are too busy, or I'll just fuck things up with the people I really wouldn't mind flying cross-country for right now. The latter just seems painfully possible at the moment.
I've been going back a lot to the old questions again: Am I annoying/stupid/mean/rude/making you feel too uncomfortable to even look at me when you say goodbye? I can't help but think that's all I ever act like.
But she laughs, confides. What does anything mean?