05.11.04 :: 9:44 pm

The recurring theme of this diary is "It's either feast or famine" and yes, it rears its bizarre little head yet again.

First let me just say that when The Good Lay asked me not to "advertise" my singledom anymore, I balked. I mean, things are good the way they are and while I understand the impulse to get all serious and whatnot, I plain and simple don't wanna.

I don't wanna, don't wanna, don't wanna.

So, I went on a date last night. And he was fun. And searingly funny. And intimidatingly smart. And a drinker. And thirty-three. And adorable.

I know that by going out on this date, I'm deceiving The Good Lay, but I thought I'd made myself clear that I didn't want to be totally exclusive.

Anyhow. God. When it rains it pours, etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseum.

So, the date. We walked around Greenwood cemetery, and promptly got ourselves lost and locked in.

Hijinks. "Well, at least it's a super convenient place to die."

A patrolman had to unlock the gate and let us out, reprimanding us the whole time.

After laughing our asses off at the ridiculousness, we went to Buttermilk where they were having their weekly trivia competition.

We ponied up three bucks to play along, naming our team "Cock Piss Partridge" after a joke in our favorite British comedy and we did pretty well.

He walked me home and we walked my dog and then we made out on my doorstep before going our separate ways.

Today, he called me to say he had a really great time and would like to see me again.

And, people, I said yes.

I'm just doing what feels good and what feels right and if there are consequences, then so be it.

I'm young, dammit, and I wanna get my kicks in while I'm still looking foxy and I still have the energy to engage in witty repartee.

In other, less witty news, I accidentally invited Mr. M to the big bash at my apartment in two weeks.

It was an honest mistake. I just imported all my contacts into Evite and didn't bother editing. I hit send like a total nimrod.

Whatever. It's not like he's going to show up. I mean that would be really fucking weird.

Still. I'm an idiot. Of vast proportion.

I'm going to bed before I do something else moronic.

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