For Reals

As I type these first few characters, hoping that something creative or amusing or even just marginally witty eventually finds its way onto the page, said keystrokes mark the third, hopefully-not-futile attempt at today's post.

Without the drama, the bullshit, the games, the guessing, the cloaked emotions...I'm short on material, people. Getting dicked over by man-boys on a regular basis most certainly makes for far better blog fodder than the saccharine details of a blossoming love affair, though I'm pretty sure I'm willing to trade the former for the latter (and accept the subsequent editorial limitations that accompany the trade) if it means whatever's happening between me and M2 right now will continue happening.

The guy totally digs me.
He brought a bottle of really good wine and gave the Costco guy full credit.
He held my hand as we walked the 15 feet from my front door to the car.
He adamantly refused to let me pay for our beers.
He didn't presume that it was okay to spend the night (which, of course, it was).
His shoes were shiny.
He submitted to my full-scale investigation vis a vis his last relationship.
I caught him staring at me while he thought I was sleeping.
He made my bed in the morning.
Then picked up my clothes from the floor and folded them.
And then gave me like the biggest hug ever.
His eyes crinkle when he smiles.
He has a penchant for super-soft sweater vests (!!!).
And for using adolescent tactics on my neck to mark his territory.
He seems to think I'm beautiful and strong and incredible and amazing.
My dog totally has a crush on him.

And, just maybe...so do I.

Date #5: tonight.