These days I have been a busy, busy girl, spending much of my free time with some boys who’d like to get to know me a little better. And it’s absolutely torturous, because at this point, I can’t spew out little stories here to entartain myself (and hopefully anyone else who might read this).
In regards to today’s earlier post, just for clarification: I have a tiny crush, which is nice, but don’t go thinking I’ve gone all loco. At least not any more loco than usual. And I’m still not writing about it – because there’s something so juicy about a tiny crush that you’re keeping to yourself (save for a few adolescent squeals to a few girlfriends) that I’m not gonna give it up just yet.
Admittedly some engagements have gone better than others – and all have served to remind me exactly what I’m looking for – and what I’m emphatically not looking for. Unfortunately, enough people who know enough people read this, and I’m sure some of the things I could write might be a tad uncouth. And just spewing factoids of places and things would be boring. So you get nothing.
I’ve got a dinner date on Wednesday with a boy (Hi Boy!) who’s been reading of my silly escapades and asked explicitly that I relay a tale of our evening to all my lucky, lucky readers once it’s all over. I’ll let him choose his own alias on Wednesday, and will duly scrutinize him for any strange quirks that I think I could twist into an entertaining little story.
As long as it doesn’t turn into the story about the time that peechie got stood up…