Well there was no date. He canceled. Day of. Incredibly not classy. He’s off the list now. And most sadly this makes for an uninteresting blog post. Perhaps he wasn’t a killer or a bore, but he’s turned my blog post into a snoozer.
Next time, right?
So I’m going on my first date tonight. Not the first date of my life, just the first one in which I intend to chronicle all adventures. What does this do for me? Provide me immense entertainment (and hopefully you also) and an ultimately false but effective “clinical detachment” as I analyze my experiences in written form. Its so mean of me… but not really. Should one relationship work out, this blog will go suddenly silent. (I’ll be busy.)
So on to the the prediction. He is tall. Good. Good start (although I’ve discovered recently this isn’t necessary). He’s very well educated – Mr. PhD in fact. He’s not particularly well written – not thrilled about that but you never know what combination of factors will ultimately work out for you. He’s older – that could be excellent as it takes men longer to mature. He probably just recently caught up to me. And he didn’t say too much else of interest! As I don’t know the fellow, I’ve notified various girlfriends of time and place of said meeting, in case he turns out to be a serial killer.
Apparently that was just background for the prediction. I predict… it will be nice, a little boring, we won’t really connect that much (I like readers and I don’t think he’s much of a reader), he won’t be that great looking, we’ll enjoy our time together as humans are supposed to do, and then I’ll go home, having to figure out plans for how to nicely get rid of him. Of course, perhaps he’ll be thinking the same! But my past doesn’t suggest that.
So, tonight – the killer or the bore. Wouldn’t it be nice to get something in between? I really don’t even know what that means. How do you be half serial killer?
Actual conclusion to this post: should all dating endeavors fail, there’s always Benedict. Now there’s a reader! I would just skip all this dating nonsense and marry him, but he doesn’t know about me yet. Small snafu in the plans.