Happy Half Birthday To Me?

Tomorrow at approximately 8:30am, I will...at long last...be meeting my crush, M. Because M lives in the big city up north, we've been emailing for two weeks now with nary a face to face rendezvous of any sort. One decent phone call, though.

(As an aside, while the topic is at hand, allow me to briefly take the opportunity to share just how much I abhor the telephone as a mechanism for one-on-one communication. Why certain strains of men [okay, and probably women, too] in this day and age still insist on continuing to use this archaeic device in an attempt to approximate what a real life conversation with a potential suitor, or anyone for that matter, might be like is totally and completely beyond me. The phone sucks balls. I'd rather see whether a boy can hold his own vis a vis the written word then hear his voice any day.)

Anyway...

M makes me laugh.
And he's smart.
And plays banjo.

I'll be in M's fair city tomorrow for reasons entirely unrelated to him, so despite the fact that I have other pressing responsibilities later that morning and he'll be in the midst of moving into a new place, we're making time to meet. 8:30am. Coffee. 90 minutes during which time to come to terms with the painfully disappointing reality that words on a page, as it were, don't always translate to a damn thing in real life. Or, to figure out precisely how soon we can start spending as much time together as possible.

Tomorrow is also my half birthday. And while I know that most normal people stopped celebrating this so-called milestone when they turned, like, seven...I'm requesting special dispensation. Just for this year and then I promise I'll never ask again.

I want just one half-birthday wish.

Please let me like him.