Don't fear the butterflies

One of my very good amigas is in-kilig. Note that I refrained from using the L word. It's simply in-kilig. For now. And that's wonderful.
The butterflies in the stomach. The I-can't-wait-till-I-see/talk/chat-with him again feeling. The daydreaming. The conversation that leaves you smiling long after it's happened.
Up until a couple of days ago, that was me as well. Which is why I can't help but worry. Because I somehow don't want her to go through the roller-coaster that I'm currently going through.
You know how they say, what goes up must come down?
The kilig factor gets replaced by questions, and the exchange of more information, that leads to even more questions. Then follow the expectations. And then the inevitable downward spiral when either party does not meet said expectations.
But sometimes, things go well. And kilig turns into admiration. And then to love.
I somehow screw things up somewhere between the questions and expectations. (wry laughter here).
But my friend has more brain cells than me when it comes to matters of the aorta. She is the one person I know who can handle men with so much grace (even under extreme pressure) that I end up fuming on her behalf. This girl could put up a school on poise education with electives on self-esteem formation.
Suddenly, I'm not that worried anymore.