#date three

His apartment was almost comical in the way it was strictly a mans. No. It was comical. Making me laugh out loud several times. With the lack of mixing bowls and the substitution with a pot. With the contents of his fridge being two mustards, a carton of eggs, an almost empty half gallon of milk and a lone beer. Without napkins or paper towels, pot holders, and saran-wrap.

The pizza surprisingly turned out delicious. Even though it was from scratch, right down to the rising of the yest. And the hour spent letting our poorly measured out dough double in size was spent watching the first half of a handful of movies and some music shearing. (And of course a few good kisses.)

He's cute. Almost too cute. Makes me question why this was our third date and why he didn't turn around and leave when we first meet at the restaurant. He can sing too, and play the guitar. He shared his music library and sung me a few lines. He's a lovely person to discuss music and lyrics with.

So for our third date I have been asked to his place for dinner. Which could either go really well or turn out awkward. Who am I kidding, it’ll be slightly awkward no matter what.

I’ve said yes. But what I’m nervous about is the situation that puts me in. Not that I’m too worried he’ll like force himself into me or anything. But want to know a secret? Number 4 was only because I didn’t want to say no and hurt his feelings.

And do you know how incredibly dirty I still to this day feel about that?