So. I spent most of this evening thinking the whole thing with Dave wasn't going anywhere. Not even the slightest attempt to hold my hand during the film (which wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be). He's much taller than I remembered from last week.
Sorry. This isn't turning out to be particularly articulate. Anyway, so had a drink afterwards. Turns out he's good at killing spiders, which could come in handy. At about half ten we went back down to the tube station, because he'd parked his car at a friend's house, apparently. Now, last time we did the whole cheek kiss thing before parting. Wasn't sure what his plan was this time - could hear my brain going "cheekcheekcheek...oh, no - he's going in... definite lips here...". And thus spit was exchanged. Quite pleasantly.
I do like him. He has a nice laugh and is quite good looking. He's never going to satisfy my need for drawn out saga and drama, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Half my brain - the suspected commitment-phobic half - is getting quite nervous at this lurch into relationshipland. The other half insists this is what I wanted - what anyone sensible would want. The SCP half continues to get edgy at the prospect of phone calls and the like. The other half says stop being so bloody stupid and deal with it. It's a good thing.
Greetings to Helen: something to read with your tea.
Doubt that Ophelia had an attic, although that wouldn't be out of keeping with Hamlet and the general theme of depression. I'm assuming that won't be the tone of this blog, however. Unless things go horribly wrong...
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2 comments:
you really think I just drink tea all day?
Well... no... not *all* day. Obviously there's time for sleep, as well.
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