Obsequious I can handle

Laura was this gorgeous dyed blonde (not into blondes BTW) woman/girl I met when I started working at Rafaella. This place is a staple of the West Village. Eclectic antique un-matching chairs and small dessert tables. Way before Starbucks even had a master plan, I worked at Rafaella. Great money, bad hours (shift 4pm-3 am). I was the only guy there at the time which is weird because, hey, it's a block away from Christopher Street and across from the Duplex (queens will know these landmarks).
She was kinda elfin but gorgeous in that she made me laugh my ass off and I made her chuckle, to boot. She was an origional Manhattanite (rare) and she had great taste.
When we became joined at the hip, I kind of had to wonder what the deal was. At this time, I was weighing in with bedding 12 or so girls and 15 or so guys, so I was kind of topsy-turvey.

I walked her home nightly and dealt with her boyfriend woes. When she was on bad guy number 3 I fiqured she was doing this as a wake up call to me to ask her out. She obviously had bad Gaydar. (ha)
We became like Eng and Cheng...joined at the hip. She would come in on her days off to see me, and I decided to take it to a different level.
She called me "OBSESSIVE."
I was like, I know this word, and I think I know what it means, literally, but...obsessive?
I looked it up. (I have to sidebar here and tell you that Laura was very well read...she turned me on to a lot of great classic books).
This is probably the definition I read:
1 : a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling; broadly : compelling motivation
Crestfallen (a fav. word of mine) was how I felt. I also started to sense that I am viewing the people i love with rose colored glasses.