08.13.03 :: 9:34 am

Oy. And vey.

It wasn't a total disaster, but I definitely mismanaged my thoughts because he was not as good looking as I had hoped and also, he was trying waaaaaaaaaay too hard, like settle down, buddy.

Also, it was all "We now return to denim theater" with his outfit what with the blue denim shirt over the same colored jeans and those motorcycle boots I know and loathe so desperately.

Not only that, but he had obviously rolled out of bed prior to picking me up because he had a massive case of Not Cute Bedhead and his shirt was overly unbuttoned.

No. And some more no.

Nice enough guy, I mean, don't get me wrong.

But I wasn't into it. At all. And I ditched him right after dinner, avoiding any sort of makeouts, to the strains of "Can I tell you you're so beautiful" (guh. no.) and I just couldn't get to the train fast enough.

This guy was what I like to call Danger Date. The guy who is dangerous to himself and to others because he exuded a little too much neediness and masked this insecurity by babbling about "hip" things and awkward-looking, self-conscious sitting positions that make you uncomfortable and self-conscious.

More than that, however, my mind was elsewhere the entire evening. Somewhere between the New York coastline and western Massachusetts, on a boy who fixes boats.

And how handsome he must look in a suit.

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