Archive | 1:51 pm

I could really go for some fried chicken

15 Feb

Have you ever thought to yourself, “I could really go for some fried chicken,” and then you talk yourself out of it because it’s not good for you. Instead you focus on your salads, and some other high quality delicious foods – maybe a fancy meal. Yet no matter what you eat all you want is the damned fried chicken? Fried chicken is not good for you, it is not good for your body or your heart. You’ll regret eating the fried chicken because you know the next day you’ll feel like shit and you’ll ask yourself, “self, why did I do that?”

#4 is my fried chicken.

The Tutor and I went out last night. Date #2. We met up at some random bar because he lives in East Jebip (aka Bumble Fuck, or Woop Woop). I turned down the initial suggestion of Ruby Tuesday’s and we ended up at this place. I hadn’t eaten all day and was so excited for carb filled food. I could have gone for some fried chicken. You can imagine my dismay when we walked in and were told the kitchen was closed until 9:30.

Great. Fine. Booze for dinner. Whatever, I’ve done it before. No fried chicken. I get it.

We had fun. Had some drinks. He pulled out 3 pieces of chocolate from his pocket and told me it was my Valentine’s Day gift – wanted to make sure I had something without going over the top. We talked about family. He’s a funny guy. Unsophisticated. Easy. Laughs at all my jokes. Seems respectful, mentally stable, emotionally available. Simple. Essentially the complete opposite of #4. He is a nice guy. Super nice. Like you could probably marry him and raise a family nice. This is the type of guy who I should be going out with. Not some douche bag who has told me flat out a relationship is not going to happen. But being the dumb ass that I am, I like the challenge #4 presents, and The Tutor isn’t going to present one. Of course while I was with The Tutor 1/2 the time my mind was on whether/not #4 had messaged me.

#4 is my current Daniel Cleaver. An incredibly stupid idea.

Anyway, end of the date approached and The Tutor walked me to my car. We were standing by it and I thought, “here we go!” He leaned in and BAM! kiss on the mouth. Closed mouth kiss, a peck. Okay, fine. That goes on for a minute or so. He was being a gentleman. Nice. Then he kissed me again. Another peck. And I thought, “fuck. Is this all that’s happening right now? I haven’t eaten all day long, I’m PMSing, I’ve had three gin and tonics, and this is not going to cut it.”

So I asked him flat out, “are you going to kiss me for real?” Who am I? What has happened to me? Who says that??

The kiss was nice. Respectful. Gentlemanly. It was not a toe curling, steam rising, ovaries beating, chest flushing, swooning kiss on the porch.

I want some fried chicken.


Maybe it’s not over

15 Feb

As I was rolling into the house a little past 11 after my date with The Tutor my phone buzzed. 3 messages from #4.

Know why he hadn’t texted? Because he was volunteering at his kid’s school. He’d been helping with some set design for the school play. How do I know? Because he sent pictures of the sets.

We’re back on. I think. Maybe. I don’t know.