So I went out again last night with new boy. Well, to better put it, I took him to a friend’s dinner party. I figured, why not? He kept saying that he wanted to meet my salsa-dancing, spanish-speaking friends and they happened to have a dinner party last night. I half expected him not to come, actually, and I wouldn’t have blamed him, since it was probably a bit intimidating (he admitted as much later and that he was super-nervous). In the end, though, he said he had a lot of fun. He made the same mistake that Keith always makes: he tried to teach me to salsa after too many glasses of wine.
We talked a lot to each other, although we did manage to mingle a bit so as not to seem too horribly anti-social. It was during one of these attempts at mingling that someone point-blank asked, ‘So are you guys together, or…?’ And I said, ‘Something like that,’ with a hint of question in my voice. Which got the boy and me talking and which led to one of the sweetest first kisses I’ve had in a long time.
Just to prove how deranged I am, I started trying to think of things that might stand in the way of developing something serious with this new boy after our first date last week. I came up with a few, but I’m just trying to ignore them. I need to take a break from always listening to my neuroses, I think. No relationship is ever perfect and, yes, I’m leaving the city in less than a year, but I can’t just run away from something potentially good until I give it a fair chance. Right?
It’s funny. We both have a bit of the same insecurities. Neither of us can quite understand why the other would be interested in him. I think anyone would have to be crazy not to be interested in him. And he said the same thing about me.
I hate to admit it, but I woke up this morning, next to him, with a new Alanis Morisette track that I recently heard. It’s her version of a Cole Porter song from the new movie ‘De-Lovely’. It’s called ‘Do It (Let’s Fall in Love)’.
The cheezy romantic in me is fighting to get out.