Whew!

Was not a date.

Was drinks, dinner, a lovely conversation of laughing, and chatting....and No Pressure. Nothing. Not even a presumptuous kiss on the check.

I don't know why I'm so relieved - I suppose, I should feel less attractive or something?

Took Pucker Up for a quickie walk and whiz...she's annoyed she's not been out enough today, evidenced by her current inhalation of pencil shavings from a sharpener she just shredded - it's 18 degrees! I don't care how much fat she's packed on, even with her coat, it's too cold out for her.

For me too.

Am already jammied up, book in hand, waiting to nod off - thinking about Date That Wasn't, how Foxy would be less thrilled, as he'd want something to happen - and all I think here? A good pal. He's funny. Makes me laugh. Enjoyed my company, even though I was a (gasp) whopping 15 minutes late.

So rude of me.

Met some really great people recently, good friends in the making I think; nothing better than good friends.

Truth be told: I don't want to date. I'm not ready. I may not be for a long time.

But now I know at least?

I can do drinks.

Without totally falling apart.