<%@LANGUAGE="JAVASCRIPT" CODEPAGE="1252"%> Whisky Pants
     
     
     

Look, I'm not doing this for you, but for my own dark and twisted reasons. Oh, and because everyone else is doing it.

 
 

July 17, 2005

when it rains...

While I've always felt that blogging or talking about a fortunate situation tends to jinx things, I just can't help myself.

For the first time since I was a teenager, I have a potential date-juggling situation. I have had excellent dates recently with two different guys. Actually, I had date two with the very nice man from last Saturday, and a first date with a new one. Both gentleman were met online. They appear to be saddled by your average amount of emotional baggage, both are attractive, bright, and think I'm fun/cute/interesting.

So far, the nosehair situation is well in hand. As you, my dear readers, know from last weekend, I have kissed Bachelor #1 before and can verify that he is proficient. We have not gotten to the point of having to ask what the definition of "is" is, which is good. I don't think it is wise to know someone biblically if both parties are still dating other people. But B1 is pretty cool - he emails, is very upfront about what is going on with him, and he also calls. Calling is nice sign of interest.

Bachelor #2 layed a nice kiss on me after our date on Saturday. I was anticipating another wet-sponging of my face (since this has been my sad sad sad experience of late), but he surprised me by knowing what he was doing. And he left a message telling me how much he enjoyed our date and wanting to know when we could get together again.

The question is, How Long Can I Make This Last? Seriously. Two seemingly normal guys that I happen to find attractive and treat me so nicely? The last time I had anything resembling this, I was in high school. It was the summer between my freshman and sophomore year, and I started the summer with 6 different boys. And they all knew it. A couple ended up a little bitter about it, with one of my beaux asking a friend about who had won the Whiskypants lottery. My vain teenage self was both pissed and puffed up over that comment. Good times...

Well, blogging will surely kill it.

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