Actual Dinner

Told that my response last night, that dinner was good, drinks were good, made new friend was not enough dish, especially for a girl!

So, for those Enquiring Minds That Want To Know:

I was late. By a whopping 15 minutes. So rude. I did, however, send the text:

Am girl...(wait for it)..... running late. 5 min. On way.

No response. That whole cocktail of fear and nerves started roiling; had this image of getting to restaurant only to find that he either didn't show at all, or, didn't wait, even though I was polite and said I was late! At the time, I would've only been 5 minutes late, but the PD pulled over two people, on either side of a two late road, so guess what: a third cop showed up to direct the bottlenecked one lane traffic piling up.

GRRRRRRRRRRR.

He was there, when I arrived; I apologized, he winked (winked! and made jokes about my being a girl, and being late, but that I looked great, was worth the extra 15 minutes he sat there) - ooh, a compliment. Wow. I blushed. (yes, am still idiot who blushes at what seems to be honest compliments) Was not smarmy I'm Trying To Get Laid compliment; was the kind of almost cast off compliment, like he was surprised he's said it too - but wasn't trying to hard.

He ordered a beer; I ordered a cosmopolitan - about three sips into, blurted out I was only doing this for my little guy, that I'm not even datable, that'd been proven time and again, and really, I wasn't ready. Don't expect me to roll over and part the thighs to heaven, because it wasn't happening Mister.

He mentioned he was hungry (I'm pretty sure he was chuckling, under his breath) - opened menu, and said, you know, we're going to be friends, that's the important part, so let's get something to eat, and spend your one day a month off doing something other than talking about kids. Or dogs.

Let me order MY favorite pizza: chicken, pepperoni, mushrooms, spinach and pineapple. Oh, yes, extra cheese. Not the goat cheese, (that belongs on salad, not pizza, but feel free to disagree with me) - he didn't even bat an eyelash.

2nd round appeared. Along with four glasses of water (my request, as I'm so parched these days, I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash if I'm not hooked directly up to a running hose) - I graciously gave him one of them.

We laughed. I was....interested...in what he had to say, Great Tummy Condors gave way (or surrendered to alcohol, who knows really) we laughed. Hard. He thought it was hysterical that I was dying to flip the tag on the sweater of the guy seated behind him into proper position - we parted, at 10, like friends who have kids do, knowing that someone has to get up in the morning, do (in my case: laundry, clean the house, have a visit on Tuesday of the Important Kind so really, should tip house on end, dump everything into someone else's yard, only put back in the necessary items - like furniture) Domestic Goddess type things - no handshake, no kiss on the cheek - he didn't touch me at all.

Whew.

I'm not always good with being touched.

Said goodnight.

Got home to find text:

Thank you, for a fantastic evening - let's do it again. Soon. :)

See? Friends. I'm good with friends.