I went out with a boy last night.
A new boy.
A cute, laughs-at-my-jokes, pays-for-my-slushie, grabs-my-hand-during-the-movie boy.
And it was so fun.
I originally met him at a bar Friday night, so this was our first encounter that involved any sort of day light. Luckily, he was just as hot as I remembered.
After the movie (which both of us laughed at tons, and you should totally go see) we went out for a drink.
And that was fun.
And then, when we were saying good-bye, he was all, “Ya, there’s just one thing.”
And I’m all “OH CRAP! OH CRAP! WHAT IS HE GOING TO TELL ME. HE’S PROBABLY MARRIED! OH CRAP! HE’S TOTALLY MARRIED! OR MAYBE HE LIVES IN FLORIDA AND HE HAS TO LEAVE TOMORROW! OH MY GOSH! THAT WOULD SUCK! OR MAYBE HE’S AN ALIEN! HE’S PROBABLY AN ALIEN! CRAP!
And then he was all, “So, you know how I told you I was 23? Well, I’m actually 21. I don’t know why I told I was 23, but I did, so I wanted to tell you now that I’m actually 21 and I’m sorry.”
And I was all, “THANK GOD THIS MAN IS NOT AN ALIEN.”
And then I was all, “21? I’m 26. Frick. I’m so old. When did I get old? This totally explains his love of slushies. I used to be young. I mean ya, sure, I look 12, but still. I’m actually old. This boy must think I’m so old.”
And then I said, “Well, I don’t care if you don’t care.”
And he said, “Of course I don’t care.”
And then he kissed me.
And, we all lived happily every after. (At lest the next 35 minutes). (It was kind of a long kiss).