Introducing: 33 (we may have to come up with a new name for him)
Going on a date in a few hours. If I weren’t slightly hung over I would probably be more excited. Also, I don’t know what I’m going to wear, but he’s really tall so at least that frees up all my shoes as options… Only I don’t have any clean clothes. So it’s underwear and heels… Wait…. Nevermind. I think that’s how pornos happen, and I’m too fat to be in any type of pornography.
Anyway, this guy is someone I met through work (the last time I met someone through work I tried to get a restraining order on him after he broke into my Grandmother’s house…. so this is not promising). After a slew of emails and g-chatting (because I’m employee of the year), we met up on one of those “is this a date or is it just a work meet-up to talk about that legislation I don’t care about?” deals. And naturally, just to be on the safe side, I showed a little extra cleavage… because if we’re being honest, that’s realllyyyy all I’ve got to work with.
So maybe it was my conversational magic, or the fact that my hair has been working with me lately, or my cleavage is really that impressive, but homeboy seems to be pretty interested. Which is nice, and tiring. I’m finding it a little awkward though, because I don’t know how to NOT play some sort of mind-game, and he’s just showing all his cards like it ain’t no thang. I sound like a nutcase.
He’s 33. So we’ll dub him “33.” (Because I’m creative like that). We made out once and he asked what I was doing on Valentine’s Day, and although the correct answer is nothing, I told him “hanging out with my grandma.” Which, in my defense, is not technically a lie sinceI really do have a grandmother and I am hanging out with her on Sunday which is just 24 hours prior. Close enough. But one make out does NOT a Valentine make, and truth be told, I’d rather get drunk with D and our other friends and make fun of our exes. Also, slow your roll buddy.
And to end this awkward blog post, I will add this tip for fellow daters: Always grub before dates 1, 2, or 3. If he picks a restaurant with food that you hate, or is a douche bag and doesn’t make reservations (thanks for planning, fucktard), which both happen wayyyy to regularly for me, you won’t be unpleasant from hunger pains. This way when grumpy-crazy you finally shows her colors, he’s good and surprised.
My brilliance strikes again!