So the 6'2" base player, articulate, funny mechanic... is coming to dinner on Friday night.
So I'm walking around the house thinking like this bird that someone sent me. Yes, I know it's a bird, but it thinks just like me! [the angry parrot] Seriously, I'd love to own this thing and have it sitting on my balcony screeching to the street!
But back to reality... Am I out of my ever living mind! A date! Another date! And he is ringing my bell. Usually, I'm relatively frosty - at least for a while (like date ten). On date one with my base player, I leaned over and brushed icing sugar from his chin.. twice (from a vanilla slice). How strange that I would do that; but worse... He felt good. Firm chin. Good skin. Just good. And right.
Dinner! But hey... Oh... He's nice. He is like me. He is a base player. Has a record collection. The other day when he drove me home, he turned the stereo up and sung his head off - ahhhh just like me; except he actually has a good voice.
So I have my menu. I'm cleaning.
I'm basically just waiting for that anvil to drop out of the sky and hit me in the head; because there has to be something wrong with him! Some catch...