I'm in lurve.
Don't let me confuse you reader, we are not talking about love, but lurve. Love is something that only develops over time, patience, and understanding. We are talking that spark of excitement and intrigue. The energy, the draw. Its more than lust, and not quite to the level of obsession of stalker crazy. It's a more fun way to say I like a guy.
I went out on the town a couple of nights ago with a friend. The town was Wyandotte, downriver from Detroit, and the friend was one of my nyc girls out here visiting family for the holidays as well.
I met up with her at a Knights of Columbus hall, some of her local friends were having a party. And this is where I met the guy, lets call him mr man. Handsome, friendly, fun, and interesting. We all closed the K of C hall and proceeded to a bar. We closed the bar and went to mr man's home. The party is down to myself, my nyc friend, mr man and one of his friends.
Mr Man does not have a tv in his living room or bedroom. Love that. His hobby is photography. Love that. He has and uses a turntable. Love that. Basically like all kinds of things about him. Oh, and did I mention he is quite hot?
Anyhoo, I am a pretty direct person. I got him alone at some point and made a pass. Great kisser! There is nothing like a really good snog. We made out a few times, and I let him know that I had to drive my friend home, but I wanted to come back afterwards to play. Pretty much "I want to have sex with you."
Now you see why I said I'm direct?
So my friend and I get in the car, and drive off. She is trying to figure out where her grandmother lives so I can get her there.
And then I realize that I have absolutely no idea where the mr man's house is. Address, street, nothing. I of course do not have his phone number. So I drop off my friend and drive around helplessly for twenty minutes. Then had to give up and go home.
Yes, I am crushed. I also feel badly that mr man thinks I stood him up! Drat, it would have been quite the fun interlude.
At least now I have some good fantasy fodder.
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