Cavities

 Sweetness has given me a toothache. And not by acting the kind of sweet that I want to go brag to my girlfriends about. Instead, he has acted needy, clingy, and insecure. By simply trying too hard, I am completely annoyed and turned off. I know that letting him down after a whoppin' three times of hanging out is going to be difficult for him so I have thus far taken the wuss road and simply avoided him. But I know he deserves something so I will eventually woman-up and call him this weekend.

The first time we made plans, it wasn't even an official date. In my mind, it was a playdate for our dogs and catching up with an old friend. The playdate turned into beers for the humans, dinner at one of the local restaurants, then back to my apartment. During dinner that night he mentioned that he wanted a relationship with me. I should have taken that as a red flag, as no one in their right mind would proposition something like that a measly five hours into getting to know a person. But upon sensing my shock, he apologized for his boldness and I just laughed it off, assuming the sun and beer had gotten to his head. I politely explained that while I was interested in getting to re-know him, I would not be anyone's girlfriend right away. I suggested that until we are both comfortable moving forward, we remain "interested friends". He assured me this was satisfactory for him.

This Tuesday, we had a real date scheduled. He met me at my place to take me to dinner. He showed up with a large bouquet of flowers which I thought was a little much for a First Actual Date, for Indian food nonetheless. Aside from him ordering his beverage and meal only fter receiving my approval, dinner was actually pretty fun. So I tried to brush aside the "trying too hard" bit.

But then came the hike. I had plans with group of friends to celebrate the holiday with a hike. Upon hearing of this, Sweetness asked if he could come and I obliged. The day was miserable. My time in the mountains with my friends and my dog was filled with anxiety and obligation to coddle this man shadowing my every move. He insisted on stopping at a certain scenic waterfall, which was certainly beautiful but didn't beckon a picnic in front of it. I knew, just knew, he was going to be all cheesy like and seize this as a super romantic place to try and make out with me so I hightailed it out of there. After that, he refused to stop to sip water from the bottle buried in his backpack because he didn't want to make me wait. Dude! We are fucking hiking at elevation. If you die or get altitude sickness from dehydration, you aren't doing me any favors. Grow a fucking pair and drink water when you're thirsty, dumbass!

Shit like that materialized through the whole day. During apre-hike beers and lunch, he would refuse to make a decision on his choices until I had made mine. In the car he said something so lovey-dovey and gross, it was nearly vomit inducing. And he said it while some of my friends were in the car, which made it embarrassing as well. That afternoon, after having some ice cream in front of my swamp cooler, I was so exhausted I literally fell asleep on my couch in an upright position. Apparently because I wasn't all over him, he got up and said he was leaving. He then came back into my apartment, stood above me as I slept and nearly started crying saying he doesn't think I care about him. It's been four whole fucking days! Too much. Way too much. Who does this? I reminded him that from the get go I expressed that I was not about to rush into a relationship and he needed to cool his jets. He left feeling a little better.

But the more and more I think about it, the more I realize just how utterly turned off I am. If I once had hope that we might work out as a couple, that hope has been smothered to death twice over. So now I have to put on my big girl panties and break the heart of a boy who really never left high school. In many ways though, I am proud of myself. Yeah, it is a shitty thing that someone else has to suffer for me to realize my self-growth. But in my younger years, I definitely would have settled for dating him because I liked the attention. Now, I refuse to put up with it. And for him, he is a nice guy. I have no doubt his heart is in the right place and he still, has a genuine kindness about him. He just needs to be looking for a woman who will appreciate his over the top antics, rather than gagging from them.

Old School

This weekend provided quite the unexpected turn of events.

A little over a week ago, while joining my friends for our usual Sunday afternoon beers, I ran into my old high school boyfriend. Yes, that high school boyfriend. The one who had rushed to the emergency room in his homecoming suit to see his girlfriend with blood clumped in her blonde hair. We went to a small charter school with a graduating of class of just over thirty students. For the most part, we all keep in touch via Facebook. Seeing as I live in my hometown, it is not unusual to run into former classmates. I can't quite say there was anything super dramatic about running into him at the beer garden. Only that "The Accident" has been weighing on my mind lately, and seeing someone from that time seemed conincidental.

None the less, the following day, I posted the courtesy "Nice to run into you. Hope all is well!" note on his Facebook wall. Within fifteen minutes, he had sent me a private message asking for my phone number as well as inquiring if I would like to get together. We made plans for this last Saturday to have a play-date for our dogs and grab a beer. I had a slight feeling that he was maybe hoping for more than just a friendly interaction, but I put those thoughts away for the most part. It had been eleven years, after all. Like me, he still lived in the area and he has had all this time to reconnect with me, so why now?

The morning of the non-date, Bodhi and I went to an outdoor yoga class. On the drive there, I was sort of thinking out loud and reminiscing about what type of guy I remembered my old boyfriend to be. I have nothing but fond memories of him. As a teenager, he was kind, selfless, generous, honest, and giving. To put it simply, he exuded Sweetness. But again, we were kids way back then. There was certainly no guarantee that he was interested in anything more than catching up with an old friend. And even so, there was no guarantee that life and heartache hadn't jaded him into Douchebag Supreme. Still, I was excited and the morning was filled with a mysterious wonder as to where his intentions might lie.

I met Sweetness at our predetermined time and location. The first thing I noticed was how cute he looked with his slightly crooked smile and now grown up beard. The second thing I noticed was how beautiful his dog was. Even My Boy was smitten with the duo. He loved having another dog to romp around with and he overcame his usual anxiety to immediately let Sweetness give him attention. After hours of the dogs cooling off in the river and running themselves exhausted, we decided it was time for some human fun and headed to the nearest dog-friendly patio for some adult libations. Our laughter and imbibing went on for the rest of the day, well into the night. We eventually retreated to my apartment where I not so slyly suggested that he shouldn't drive home. He told my I was beautiful. Told me he thinks of me every day. And even way jumped the gun by telling me he wanted to see me all the time and wants to pursue a relationship with me. He also swept my chimney (thank god!).

I had a wonderful time with him and we have made plans to have dinner tomorrow. I am excited, optimistic, happy, and freaked the fuck out all at once. The seriousness and emotionally openness of his words have taken me aback. He did seem a little hurt when at the mention of a "relationship", I retreated a little. But, come on! How can one know they want to be committed to another person after only eight hours spent with one another? Sure, I want to see him more. But I am simply unable to make that kind of decision at this stage. Then again, his only problem is that he doesn't have any problems. Sweetness is still the sweetest man I have ever met. He still is kind and honest. I have spent all of my adult life with emotionally unavailable men, so engaging with one like him should be a relief.

How is it that all I have ever thought I wanted in a partner is someone who is kind and genuine with me, yet when he presents himself, he's not enough of a douche to make me want to seal the deal. I even recently put into words my perfect man and here, Sweetness has manifested but I refuse to get on board. Could it be that I am not as ready to commit as I thought I was? Perhaps I attracted assholes because somewhere in my sub-conscious, I knew they wouldn't work out and I wouldn't have to commit? Am I a perpetuation of the old stereo-type of "Nice guys finish last?" How sick is that? Last night I gave Trinity a recap of my weekend and she flat out said "I refuse to listen to you bitch about having the perfect guy in your life. I refuse!"

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Anything but boredom

I did it. I chopped off my hair. An entire foot of it, actually. It was my first professional hair cut in almost a decade. And I got professional highlights for the first time in my entire life. To me, that is just crazy. I have never been a spa or gussied-up type of girl. I usually just trim half an inch or so off my flat, lifeless, boring mane every few months. The new hair makes me feel a little more "adult". Grown women get their hair done, right? It also has given me a good dose of confidence that I seem to have been lacking lately.

On Friday, just hours after writing my last post, an odd and somewhat traumatizing incident occurred. I was on the phone with a client when a mini-tornado swept through my office parking lot. I glanced over and saw a coworker struggling to close the glass door that was swinging open and threatening to blow away, right off its hinges. Then, in eerily perfect unison, I hear the gasp of several other coworkers and a cry of "C, your car!" I politely excused myself from the call I was on and hobbled over to see the wreckage. A fucking tree was on my car. On top of my goddamn car. Surprisingly, I didn't completely lose my shit. The hilarity of what my eyes were seeing was just too strange and too odd to get all worked up about.

By the time I arrived at my regular stomping ground for a beer, I was done. I was ready to tie one on. My friends and other regulars raved about my hair and expressed their sympathies for my now defunct ride. I caught up with an old friend who has moved back to our little town for the summer and we agreed to meet later in the evening to get a little shitty. And shitty we got. After, oh I don't know, three or four shots of Patron, I noticed a very tall and very handsome bearded man in our establishment. He was a new face and obviously not a local in our town. When my beer needed a refill, I slid up to the empty bar stool next to the hottie and placed my order with the bartender. While waiting, I felt brazen enough to introduce myself and compliment my new friend on his astounding karaoke skills. (I am nowhere near confident when it comes to approaching good looking guys. I blame my assurance on my new hair and the fact that I simply just didn't give a fuck after the tree vs. car shenanigans.)

Hot new guy seemed absolutely shocked that I had approached him and rewarded me by purchasing my beer when it arrived... as well as inviting me to keep chatting with him. Just as I thought, he was not a local in my town. He lives in the big city and had been at a picturesque wedding in my neck of the woods. After closing the reception, the party turned into a bar crawl and he had found his way into the bar my friends and I were at. Eventually, his friend popped over to say their limo back to the city was on its way to pick everyone up. We exchanged numbers and he expressed his disgust over having to leave the conversation with me. So I did something a little nuts and said "Stay here then." He kissed me. Then did a walk of shame from my apartment to meet his friends for brunch the next morning.

Now, in my last post I exclaimed how badly I needed to get laid. But as luck would have it on that fateful night, Aunt Flow showed up to make sure I didn't put out. Which is probably for all the better. We kissed and cuddled and made out like a pair of horny teenagers but we didn't get intimate and I told him I was glad for that. I said "I think I'd like to see you again, but if we had sex last night, that probably wouldn't happen." He laughed and tried to convince me otherwise. We chatted a lot and seemed to have great conversation that flowed and he didn't hightail it out of my apartment at the crack of dawn. In fact, we woke up early and laid in bed, talking and drinking coffee for a solid five hours before parting ways. He even called me on the walk to tell me he thinks I'm awesome and he cannot wait to take me out on a proper and "sober date".

My favorite part of meeting him was when I initially did the twenty question interrogation to find out why he was single. He said there is a running joke among his friends that he is always the guy a girl dates just before she meets someone she wants to marry. I was astounded and said I use the term Wife Fluffer for myself, as most of my demons end up married or close to it soon after their relationship with me ends. His response? "Well, I think we should date then. Because if things don't work out between the two of us, at least we'll meet the loves of our lives right after." Brilliant. After spending some time today, stalking him out on facebook and linkdn, I found that he is actually legit. His job, interests, education, and upbringing are exactly as he said they were. Oh, and he is also not on any sex offender registries.

So we'll see. Maybe he won't call and I can continue on with my whining ramblings. Or maybe he will and I'll have some good or bad dating posts in the near future.  

Face Plant to Freedom

So...um...yeah. Phoenix is sort of fucked up. I will spare you the play-by-play but here's the gist:

Last Saturday, after way too much inhebriation at a friend's party, Phoenix offered to walk me home. During the walk, some drunken slurs were made from both sides. Ultimately, he became downright nasty and mean. His behavior and his words actually scared me. It was as if he turned into some sort of vicious stranger.  He wound up leaving me to find my way, disoriented in the middle of an unfamiliar neighborhood, at two in the fucking morning. Who does that? Seriously. What kind of stand up man in his Thirties leaves his female friend to fend for herself, lost, at two in the morning?

In a way, I am relieved by it at this point. Though our conversations and bond appeared to be growing, we never became intimate so I do have that to be thankful for. And if I ever find myself struggling to divert my attention away from a particular someone, them behaving like a bipolar douche is sure to do the trick. I could sit here and over-analyze his every word, along with the drastic change in his behavior. But I really just don't care much. Anyone who can treat a person as awfully as that, is no person I care to get to know any better. I will admit that for me, there has been some awkwardness. I have been avoiding my regular haunt, as it is now his regular haunt as well. But that really isn't the end of the world either. For now, I need some distance from Phoenix. And not drinking so much (while saving a little bit of cash) isn't exactly a bad thing.

So, I'm free. And better off. For now.

Male Driven Insomnia

After spending nearly all of yesterday drinking entirely too much beer with Phoenix, we stumbled our way to our respective homes. Just minutes after I walked in the door, my text alert goes off. He is apparently not done with me for the evening. We exchange some friendly and flirtatious text banter for the next half hour or so, until I presume, he passed out. Lucky him, as my brain reeled for hours.

What should I wear when I see him next?  
Shit. I have so much cleaning to do before dinner on Wednesday. 
Ooh, perhpas I will make myself some new earrings by then. 
Wonder if he really is "off" with the girl in his old town? 
Goddammit.  Seeing him every day is really hindering my work out regimen.
Holy fuck.  I spend a lot of money having beer with him every day.
If I get butterflies from him hugging me, am I going to stop breathing when he finally kisses me?
I wonder if he drinks enough tequila on Wednesday, he won't want to do the twenty-block-walk home?

This internal dialogue went on until somewhere around 2 a.m. when I finally turned out the light, wrapped my arms around My Boy, and tried in vain to get some sleep. Yes, I have broken puppy training non-no #1. I have been letting My Boy sleep in bed with me. Due to his past reputation of chewing everything in the house, he is crated during the day, and until recently, at night while I sleep. But I'm a giant fucking softy.  What can I say? I feel guilty that he is in a crate for nine hour stretches and then stuck in there another seven overnight. I am also slowly trying to give him a bit of freedom and forcing him to cope with being around the tempting, chewy goodness of my shoes and computer cords, while not actually chewing them.

The problem is, My Boy is big. On one hand, having a big hairy being on my bed, helps me to not care so much about the big hairy being that isn't. Sometimes, his panting breath will lullaby me to a deep sleep. Last night was not one of those nights. Last night was a night of him laying perpendicular to me. Of kicking me in the face with his hind legs. Of him crowding the bed to where I woke with only one extremity still on the mattress. This is how I spent the little three hours of sleep I was trying to get.

I think these boys are trying to kill me.

It's Never That Simple

...but I am convinced there is nothing too much beer can't fix.

In my last post,I declared to the world that I was dropping my pursuit of Phoenix. Yeah, right. Two days after that, a group of us, including Phoenix, drank too much. It was the very first First Friday of summer in my small town. It is kind of a big deal. My town will take any excuse to party, even if it is something as simple as the first Friday of summer. We started at our usual happy-hour beer location and naturally, Phoenix showed his pretty head. He came right up to me before anyone else and did not leave my side the rest of the night.

Our group later found ourselves as part of the town party, streets barricaded and all. Of course, Phoenix and I were magnetically attached and after one (or two) too many beers, I flat out told him how much I love hugging him. He responded as if it were a challenge to see how much he could hug me in one night. My head was buried in his chest for much of the evening. I am not sure how we got on the conversation, but at one point, he mentioned something of a lady friend back home that he had been "on again, off again" with. Well, truth serum can be strong so the following conversation happened:

C: Can I ask you a question?
P: Of course.
C: Is your "on again, off again" thing the reason you have yet to make a move on me? Or are you just uninterested?
P: *Chuckle* It is definitely NOT that I am uninterested. I am very interested. And yes, that has been one reason. I talked to her when I went back home last weekend. She said she wouldn't commit to me so I should just start a new life here. But I am also slow moving at these things. And I am the new guy in town and you are the girl who knows everyone.
C: Okay, well we should hang out more then. Without our usual beer entourage. You know, have some pressure-free non-dates.
P: *Chuckle again* Yeah, I would like that.

And so it was. He walked me home that night, holding my hand. Rather than the usual stopping at the driveway to say goodbye, he wanted to come in to see and play with My Boy for awhile. We made plans to go out on Saturday (last night). We did. It was awesome. We also made plans for him to not only attend this week's community collaborative dinner at my abode, but also to contribute in it. In a few hours, we will be yet again, meeting at our usual spot. Still no kissing. Just holding hands and a lot of those wonderful, heart warming, hugs. I will take that.

I love you because...

It is no secret that I have spent much of my Twenties consumed by my relations with the wrong men.  At present, I am trying to focus on myself and letting love come into my life, "organically" (as I keep saying).  True, I allow myself to get a little too distracted with my boy-crazy tendencies.  But hey, I'm not dead. Anyway, I thought it would be fun to write a little love letter to the right guy, whoever he may be. The following are the reasons I will fall in love with him, and will keep loving him.

Huh... thinking about this list.  I think I want a lumberjack.  

You are strong, yet gentle. You fiercely protect what is important to you.  You stand up for yourself and refuse to put up with bullshit from the world around you.  You are not afraid to work hard and get dirty.  You are tough. Yet, you show compassion and kindness to our dogs, our friends' children, and all other beings more weak and meek than you.

You do Man Stuff.  You can change the oil in a car, change a tire, start the BBQ, line a fishing rod, unclog a toilet, kill spiders, take out the mouse traps.  I can do all these things too.  But there is something so primal and sexy about watching you do them.  Just promise you will let me keep cleaning the fish.  I love that shit.

Your beard keeps your face warm during all the chilly nights we spend in the wilderness.  It tickles the corner of my lips when you kiss me.  Your lack of a shaving routine promises you will never take longer than me, getting pretty in front of the mirror.

Your idea of a romantic dinner is one we create together, then enjoy outside in the company of our dogs.
 
You love dogs.  And always will.  And understand my love for them.

You tell me "Nice one" when I out-burp you.

You are healthy but love beer and cheese as much as I do.

You make me feel beautiful.  You love my love-handles for what they are.  Something to hold onto.

You love family.  Even if you don't have your own around, you willingly, because you want to, become part of mine.

You can dance the weekend away at a Bluegrass festival with me.  But you're completely okay with the DJ playing hair-bands at our wedding.

You love my cooking and don't just fake it to make me feel good.


You have your hobbies and let me have mine.  Though, we share our common interests as well.

You let me be emotional.  You respect that I am a woman, and it is my nature.  But you show me your logic.

You firmly believe beaches and cities are for vacation.  Mountains are for living.

You are responsible and keep your word.

You are my best friend.  We trust each other with all of our dirty little secrets.  We have no secrets from one another.

Tent sex. Enough said.

Struck by Lightning on a Clear Day

It is amazing what a difference a week can make.  Two Saturdays ago, I found myself at home after dinner with the parents, relaxing and blabbing on about how responsible I am. Fast forward seven whole days, and I'm taking shots of tequila with Trinity at my house, prior to taking more shots of tequila at the bar to commemorate Cinco de Mayo like the good Gringa I am.

Our itinerary of debauchery was well planned.  Through the course of about thirty emails last week, Trinity and I decided she would come to my town for the night.  She would meet me at our usual day-drinking micro brew spot before we ventured on to a sponsored block party our friend's band was playing.  Eventually, we would spend the rest of the night belting out Beastie Boys karaoke in memory of M.C.A.  Sounded like a great plan, one reminiscent of my earlier Twenties.  I only asked that I not wake up pregnant. We executed our plan fucking beautifully! Days later, we are still talking about how great it was to be so irresponsible for an evening.

Copious tequila shots were not my only irresponsible indulgence from the weekend though.  I have developed a crush.  A real, honest, omigodimsixteenagain, crush.  I have known Phoenix for a few weeks, as he is Robo's new neighbor.  He moved to my town less than two months ago, and is thus, the new (and yet to be tainted) guy in town.  Really?  A handsome man in my small mountain town that neither me or any of my friends have slept with?  Get the fuck out - I've hit a gold mine!  In all honesty, I wasn't thinking of him as a romantic partner when we met.  I know my group of friends can be a little clique-y, as if we are the cool kids on the playground.  So when I would see him venturing out on the town solo, I always made an effort to be friendly. 

However, the platonic nature of my feelings towards Phoenix came to a screeching halt this weekend.  As our quick greetings slowly started migrating to walking each other home, post happy-hour dinners, and spending hours on end with one another, people started to notice.  At first, I would respond to inquiries about our status with "It's not like that.  He's new here and I'm just trying to be friendly."  After many prods from my guy friend, Cowboy, I finally just said "Okay.  I admit it.  I have a HUGE crush on Phoenix."  I eventually let myself realize that as much as I try to fight it, I genuinely want to hang out with him.  Like, every fucking day.

At the present time, my little (or not so little) crush on Phoenix is just that.  There has been no holding hands, kissing, caressing, and certainly no fucking.  But our conversations have certainly drifted from just random "getting to know you" bullshit to more deep and meaningful things.  We talk about our families, our, pasts, our goals, our hopes for our futures, and most recently, what sort of things we like and dislike in relationships.  I feel that I may be sensing some mixed signals from Phoenix. We spend a LOT of fun time together, but his lack of physical forwardness confuses me into thinking that perhaps this attraction being mutual is a fleeting thought.  Cowboy on the other hand, says I have simply forgotten what it's like to be pursued by a gentleman: "Just because he hasn't tried to poke ya, doesn't mean he's not interested in ya.  Now gimme me a dip."

So now, here I am.  Obsessively checking my phone, tripping over myself when I hear it ring, asking Trinity to help me compose texts, and in general just over-analyzing every damn word or action I see from Phoenix.  How immature and irresponsible can I be?  But it sure is a lot of fun. Goddammit.  As I have said before, the last thing my life needs is a man to come around and fuck it all up.  My brain has more important shit to do.

Fishing Weekend Report

I last opened up to you about The Fisherman.  After he arrived on Friday, we took our dogs on a long walk in my neighborhood.  Nearing the end of said walk, he said "What I love most about us is that we always just pick up where we left off.  We never have any 'I haven't seen you in a year and this is weird' moments.  It's always just so... easy?"  Sort of hilarious as I said nearly the same thing in my post earlier that day.

That night, he took me out for the customary sushi dinner.  I LOVE that he buys me sushi every time we see each other.  Our dinner conversation was fairly typical for us; mostly about our careers and dogs.  Like me, he absolutely adores his job.  He, on the other had, abhors where he lives.  He confided in me that he really has no social life outside his coworkers.  Outside of work, he is fairly miserable in the cow-patty town he lives in.  He basically said "Please, find me a job here that I will love just as much as the one I have now.  Then, I can move here and we can get married."

Aww...  But I'm not exactly checking out the want-ads.  As great as The Fisherman may be, I would have to be out of my damned mind to even entertain the thought of him relocating his life to start one with me.  No more than thirty minutes after his departure on Sunday, I started hearing many complimentary "You guys are so right for each other" comments and answered many questions about The Fisherman.  My response? I don't really care for a boyfriend at all right now, let alone, a long-distance boyfriend.  I don't have the desire and energy to put in effort to truly devote myself or my life to a man that lives one block away.  I'm sure as hell not putting in the effort to drive out of state once or twice a month.

Sure, I love the idea of love and romance as much as the next person.  Probably even more than most.  But I am just not looking for it right now.  My life is too big and too great.  I simply want to just be me.  Not anyone's girlfriend.  Just me.  And while I may not be anti-romance, if it does happen, it needs to be organically.  In the case of The Fisherman, that would mean him getting a job and relocating to my state on his own accord.  Then and only then, perhaps building a more regular friendship with me that may (a very strong may) have the potential to become more.

This time, there were no tears when he and his dog drove off into the sunset.  In fact, it was a relief.  Sure, I had a wonderful time with him.  We spent the weekend eating decadent sushi, drinking micro-brews at my favorite spot, hiking, BBQing with friends.  It was great and it was fun to "play house" for a little while.  But when my dog and I had the place to ourselves again, it was complete bliss.
 

Date #3 with The Writer

Happy Monday everyone!  May you have a wonderful start to your week!

The Writer and I shared Date #3 on Saturday.  He came to my town where we had dinner and stopped by a Holiday party / Charity benefit / Concert some friends of mine were hosting. That also means I ended up introducing him to a handful of my social circle.  Normally, it is no big deal for me to introduce a date to my friends.  In fact, that often happens on the first or second meet ups.  For some reason though, I feel the need to keep my time with The Writer personal.  I want to keep him all to myself.  My friends are great and welcoming people so I certainly do not feel worried about him getting to know them.  More that I just want to fully devote my attention to him when we are together. 

Upon leaving the gathering, we came back to my house where we shared pictures and our favorite funny videos with one another.  Naturally, we also made out like teenagers until 3:00 a.m.  Though it has not become a subject of conversation between us yet, I have decided to keep my knickers on until we are an exclusive item and have had a mutual conversation explicitly naming us as so.  I foresee this becoming a challenge as firstly, I am not great at expressing my emotional desires to men.  Rather than having an adult conversation and leave myself vulnerable to potential rejection, I seem to withhold my feelings while only hoping (but never knowing) he feels the same way.  Secondly, I find him insanely charming and handsome and my willpower to resist a man like him could be fairly weak.  Damn it all; I will put my heart before my libido this time.  Dare I say, I am beginning to really like The Writer do not want to risk falling into casual sex with him.

We are going out again tonight for a film screening in the city.  Our courtship makes me feel special.  His writing seems to provide him with perks and invitations to fun events.  The idea of him asking moi to be his date, is quite flattering. 

Introducing The Writer

So I left out one minor detail when I said today (or yesterday, at this hour) was uneventful. That was intentional as The Writer (or future-demon) deserves his own post away from those demons.  
I got a text from The Writer this afternoon, inviting me out.  I had to decline as I already had plans - that were later canceled, of course.
A text from The Writer is a bit of an event.  Enough to put a smile on my face, at least.
We met via OKCupid and mutual friends.  So far I find him smart, funny, sarcastic, polite, well educated and handsome. 

• 1st date  - Quick cup of coffee.  Enjoyable conversation.
• 2nd date - Movie and a beer.  More enjoyable conversation.  First kiss.
• 3rd date - Happening this Saturday.  We'll see.  Too early to determine his intentions with me.  Exciting anyway.