Entertaining evening...
Clad in nothing but boxers, I rushed to clean up my pigsty of an apartment before his arrival. Sweat-caked boxer-briefs and other cast-offs from kickboxing were hanging off my staircase railing. Mounds of dirty clothes were sprouting out of the rug like cotton anthills (I have a habit of stripping down and letting things fall where they will). A layer of dust had settled on all my bookshelves.
I barely managed to grab a cold cut trio on country wheat at Subway®. In my rush, I made the mistake of purchasing DORITOS® WOW! (made with Olean®) when I thought I was getting the new DORITOS® 3D'S and, rather than risk afflicting myself with flatulence, stomach cramps, and "anal seepage," I chose to throw them out.
I was killing time reading a couple of Roald Dahl's short stories when G. showed up at my door. For lack of something better to do (and because I was ancy from being trapped indoors most of the day), I convinced him to take a walk with me through the circuitous pathways that run through the woods behind my apartment complex. After about an hour of chatting, we ended up back on my couch watching Series Seven: The Contenders, which I had never seen before. It was fabulous, but made doubly so by the unadulterated pleasure G. takes in it (it was his third viewing). We really align with respect to sense of humor.
It's a shame about that lack of physical attraction.
After spending an extra forty minutes watching the deleted scenes and mocking the pretentious self-importance of the Director during his commentary, we headed off to find dinner. Because I spend next to no time actually socializing in the city of my residence, I know of only one eating establishment (the buffet I ate at last night). So, dinner involved a bit of aimless driving and our eventual settling on a Silver Diner (cheeseburgers and milkshakes). I pretty much spent the entire meal recapping the Kitsch Tour for his amusement.
Afterwards, we ended up on my couch watching The Vagina Monologues, which neither of us had seen before. I thought it was hilarious. He found it profoundly unsettling (he has a very weak stomach). I showed him a photograph of my sperm that was taken in Austria (long story). I introduced him to Six Feet Under before he decided he had to leave in order to maximize his chances of making it back to Baltimore while conscious.
It's weird. I'm not feeling it. And I am starting to feel a little guilty because I think he is starting to really like me.
I barely managed to grab a cold cut trio on country wheat at Subway®. In my rush, I made the mistake of purchasing DORITOS® WOW! (made with Olean®) when I thought I was getting the new DORITOS® 3D'S and, rather than risk afflicting myself with flatulence, stomach cramps, and "anal seepage," I chose to throw them out.
I was killing time reading a couple of Roald Dahl's short stories when G. showed up at my door. For lack of something better to do (and because I was ancy from being trapped indoors most of the day), I convinced him to take a walk with me through the circuitous pathways that run through the woods behind my apartment complex. After about an hour of chatting, we ended up back on my couch watching Series Seven: The Contenders, which I had never seen before. It was fabulous, but made doubly so by the unadulterated pleasure G. takes in it (it was his third viewing). We really align with respect to sense of humor.
It's a shame about that lack of physical attraction.
After spending an extra forty minutes watching the deleted scenes and mocking the pretentious self-importance of the Director during his commentary, we headed off to find dinner. Because I spend next to no time actually socializing in the city of my residence, I know of only one eating establishment (the buffet I ate at last night). So, dinner involved a bit of aimless driving and our eventual settling on a Silver Diner (cheeseburgers and milkshakes). I pretty much spent the entire meal recapping the Kitsch Tour for his amusement.
Afterwards, we ended up on my couch watching The Vagina Monologues, which neither of us had seen before. I thought it was hilarious. He found it profoundly unsettling (he has a very weak stomach). I showed him a photograph of my sperm that was taken in Austria (long story). I introduced him to Six Feet Under before he decided he had to leave in order to maximize his chances of making it back to Baltimore while conscious.
It's weird. I'm not feeling it. And I am starting to feel a little guilty because I think he is starting to really like me.