1 Oct 2009
9:30a.m.
So, Mr. Man who is apparently in the office all week (though I've personally seen neither hide nor hair of him) just popped in and asked me to dinner.
Yep, dinner. That is what I said.
I was all, "this is new."
He was all, " it IS isn't it?"
So I said, "sure - why not?". After all, we've never ever really talked about anything, so dinner could be interesting.
But then I did that guilty over-share thing I do - which is always hideously embarrassing in the moment, but which has saved my ass on many occasion.
"But we need to go early because I have a Skype date with my boyfriend at 11," I said.*
Mr. Man gave absolutely no indication that he was in any way effected by my blurt. I swear, the bastard has Valium cursing through his veins.
He was all, "no problem, eight then?"
'Perfect," I said.
So we are going to dinner tonight at friggin eght.
I have no idea how I feel about that.
But I promise to tell everything.
* Yes, I do realize that anywhere other than NYC, there is little risk of finding oneself eating dinner at 11 p.m. on a weeknight. But honey, I swear it happens to me here at least once a week.
