I’ve been getting emails of late asking for more blog posts about disastrous dates. And, sadly, I don’t really have any to share.
It’s not that I haven’t been going on dates. I have. They’ve just been good. And all with the same girl.
Which, I realize, is somewhat out of character. I haven’t blogged about it, ostensibly because I didn’t want to freak her out, but, really, because I didn’t want to freak myself out. Once it’s on paper (or, more accurately, screen), there’s no denying – even to myself – that I actually really like this girl.
But, after having spent the weekend with her in Boston, and having totally not been sick of her by the end, which is weird, because I get sick of everybody and usually need far more time to myself, I’m biting the bullet, and coming clean.
I think I have a girlfriend.
Until I get yelled at for putting this online and then figure out how much I should really be sharing or not, the only description you get is one emailed along, strangely enough, by her mom: smart and intuitive and maybe sometimes a little weird.
Which, basically, is exactly my type. Fingers crossed.