This past week I averaged about 2.1 dates.
He’s new to the area. We’ve been corresponding for a few weeks and finally met. Like usual, there were no special sparks working me into a tizzy. In fact, he was shorter than advertised with a round, bald spot smack in the middle of the back of his head. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have my pitfalls as well, especially since I quit taking my birth control and have little pimples sporadically sprouting. I’m merely emphasizing the lack of attraction I felt for this guy. And, Lord knows, I’m totally sick of guys misrepresenting their height, unless I’m like 5’9 and have no idea and I’m the one exaggerating my size.
Needless to say, another no go, but hey(!) there weren’t any weird revelations or unwanted advances, so I must say the meeting went well.
Another Dallas newbie and shorty, but at least I wasn’t taller this time around. I was way more casually dressed than he, but oh well; I was suckered by his attractiveness. Initially the conversation was like pulling teeth. He wasn’t divulging much and for Pete’s sake a girl needs something to work with in order to make conversation. I took a little pity because he did seem incredibly nervous.
After awhile the mood lightened and all was okay. The date ended and I respectfully went home after a hot lip lock to get ready for another date which didn’t happen because I got a terrible sinus headache on my way home. Meh.
Oh, and this one also followed up with the message that goes a long way, like the prior week’s #4.
You’re wondering what’s up with the .1, right? I had to cut things short. I’ll tell you later. I’m sure you can imagine things were fairly fucked.