Back Atter

Well, so much for my commitment to write every day. Maybe I should start with every week as a goal, and go from there. Maybe.

I have re-entered the dating realm. I'm sure you've all heard, as this fact is so bloody newsworthy it reeks of tabloid ink and sweaty reporters hats.

I signed up on Plenty of Fish - a completely free dating website. I like it - it's better than Lavalife, in my opinion, mostly because there are more people on it, but also because it's free - so contacting people doesn't ding you a couple of bucks.

At any rate, I've gone a couple of dates. Like real dates, where you dress up and feel awkward and stupid and repeat lines you heard on tv, praying they don't recognize the line. When I hear that he doesn't watch tv, I feel relieved.

The first victim was a computer software guy, very tall. Blonde. Extremely smart and funny. We ate oysters and drank beer at Rodney's, then headed over to George for martinis. 5 martinis, to be exact. It was a very good date, and we agreed we should see each other again. So we had lunch the following week. Both of us had work on the brain, so lunch was subdued. Or so I thought.

A week later he emailed me to tell me he had met someone and that someone was sparklier than me, but he "really likes me so can we be friends, for real, not like "that"." I agreed on paper. But then I started thinking about it - is that getting a fair deal? He gets my wit, charm and occasional platonic company AND he gets to go bonk someone else. I'm not sure about this agreement, but I'll keep you posted. I suppose I could turn that around and think that he's the one getting the raw end of the deal and that I should be happy to be spared the doldrums of relationship, but, no. I don't think that's the case.

The second date was a smash hit. SMASH. Funny as hell. My jaw hurt the next day. (from laughing, thank you very much). We had a snack and a drink then bought beer and hung out at his place and talked for 6 hours. Somewhere around hour 4, we changed into baggy t-shirts and Thai pants - the wide legged things you tie at your waist. Super comfy. The whole date was super comfy. Golly I hope he calls me, I do I do. Damned fine kisser, too. Nothing worse than getting to the end of an evening, and have a bad kiss ruin everything. Tsk. But not the case here. He knew what he was doing and yes I wanted more, but no I didn't. So there.

And I have more, yes MORE stories to tell, but I will pace myself and save something to write about next week.

By the way - go to Abigail's Party on Yew, grab a bottle of Masi Campo for 40 bucks and the Goat Cheese Pave, pictured below. Say hi to Andrew.