(insert title that is a witty way of saying i am tired)

Final Score: Not meh.

Can I overshare? (Of course I can. My blog.)

The weather in downtown Decatur last night was a mist. It never really rained hard, but it never really stopped raining. I had parked by the courthouse to be close to Eddie's, but we were meeting on the other side of the train station, so I had a couple of blocks to walk. By the time I was there, the time I spent blowing my hair dry would have been better spent. . .doing anything else. I was not as pitiful looking as the opossum that fell into my mom's trash can in a rainstorm once, but not a whole lot better. Oh well. I so very rarely am well-put-together, I suppose it's better that we didn't start out with a bunch of unrealistic expectations. I walked in the place, and recognized him immediately, because he looks just like his picture. Only. . .shorter.

(No, his picture wasn't taken next to the door of a convenience store, there was no height indicator. . .and I did get a last minute revelation that this might have been the case, because he hadn't put his height on his online profile, which either means he was lazy or short. And he wasn't lazy, because the rest of it was pretty well filled out. So, short. Not my Ideal Dream Date, but let's face it, I don't think any guy is out there thinking, "And please, God, let her have a pot belly that looks like she's a 60 year old man. And really some extra fat all over would be nice, God. Oh, and could we add in the hot flashes and hormone surges at 41, God, because that would be super. And God, when you wrap this all up, could you make sure she has lots of issues?" Yeah. We all have little dreams dashed, who am I to give someone a smackdown for being 5'4"?)

In any case, we sat in the coffee bar and talked for a while, then we realized we had to get something to eat. We walked around Decatur for a while, and then realized what we really wanted was at a restaurant that required driving. So--did I mention that his car had left a good part of the transmission on Scott Boulevard at some point in the week?--we got in the van and drove to eat.

At the restaurant, I discovered the reason for the short: he's a vegetarian. I was very good, and did not point out that the lack of meat could have stunted his growth. There's only so mean I'm willing to be on a first date with someone who--vertically challenged though they may be--is a whole lot of fun to be with, and makes me feel good about me.

So we hung out at the restaurant and talked until they essentially said, "Um, hey, I guess you guys are getting to know each other and all, but see how we're putting these chairs on top of the other tables? Think you could move your butts out of the ones you are in so we could do the same with those? Thanks, really."

And then I gave him a lift back to his place, since he had no transmission and all. Ostensibly to hear the piano playing live and in person, but that didn't happen. On the way out there, we listened to my Dar CD (Mortal City, but if you've seen my Out There Live one, please let me know where it is.) He had never heard Dar before (and have I mentioned that I have two tickets to go see her? First on my list is my sistern, second would be my daughter. . .third is up for grabs at the moment, but I'm not sure I want to go with a boy--ANY boy.) so we put in that CD at his house and sat and talked and then we kissed. You betcha.

And there was some hanky panky.

And then I cried.

(Issues. Lots of issues. Enough back issues to fill a library.)

Well, come on. The kissing has been pretty scarce, little Israeli dudes notwithstanding. But after the crying, there was more kissing, and some more hanky panky, and then we were all relaxed until SWEET MAGIC PUMPKINS IS IT REALLY 1:45 IN THE MORNING AND I HAVE TO BE AT WORK IN SIX HOURS????

So I made a hasty exit. And came home, and slept the sleep of the just (and innocent) in my very own bed. And got up at 7, and went to work. And he called me at 8:45 to make sure I had gotten there, and we're going out tomorrow night.

Not Meh. Not Meh At All.