The Grand Scheme of Things

Date Rate: ♥♥♥♥♥

I will now admit that for my (3rd) date yesterday with Mr. Jetpack I did a slight bit of scheming. I came up with a location for the afternoon happy hour date that is within walking distance from my apartment. Ideally it is better to ride one's bicycle there because after dark the path can be frequented by Denver's slightly less than savory folks. I decided it would be best though if I walked.

Can you see the scheme yet? What if I told you he had to drive to the location because he doesn't live downtown? That's right people. Because I like to be driven around and because riding in the same car is a far better set up for some kiss action, I tried to make sure I'd have to get a ride home. I'm very thrilled that a scheming plan of mine has finally worked. So after four hours of happy hour I got a ride home.

I think he may have caught on to my scheme and played along. He pulled the well I better just park instead of merely pulling up and I'm quite sure even uttered some kind of line to the tune of, "I'd really like to kiss you." To which I devilishly replied, "Then you better come in." The scheming had gone to my head by now, obviously, and I now fancied myself some kind of smooth talker.

We had the niceties. He ogled my road bike, looked at my camp pictures on the wall and complimented the photos my brother gave me. I gave him water and turned on music. Then I figured as he had put the kissing suggestion on the table it must be my move. So I did. And there was makey outey and it was good.

Dear Kristen, Don't Be a Wuss.

Ok. I didn't know whether I should write about this but it's kind of cheating the process if I don't.

On Friday, (Mom and any other family members reading this, you might want to stop now.) I sent a proposal to a fellow I've known a while with the encouragement of Zachy, so he can be partially blamed. (Mom, seriously stop reading). It may have gone something like this, "Hi, want to make out tonight?" Logistics were set up. His arrival at my apartment happened. I suddenly, lost my boldness and became amazingly awkward. I know if you send the suggestive text message it's your job to make the move but I got more like myself and chickened out. This lameness, on my part, continued for about two hours. Two hours of strange television watching. Craig Ferguson is funny but not exactly mood music. So he must figure after two hours that I'm not going to do anything and gets up to leave. I pull out my last card. The Pouting Card. It hasn't failed me yet and didn't fail me this time either. A little pout and a fake good-bye hug later and we have makey outey. Two hours of makey outey to counter two awkward hours. Word. Now you know, Mom.

Step By Step

Heck Yes! I found the long-lost reject button, it's tiny and called "no longer interested." Good, now I can let the accidental guy down easily. Of course, I still can't stop those who have "noticed" me but I suppose they can just keep staring like those creepy old dudes at the Horseshoe. Sadly, at least those guys sometimes buy me shots, Chemistry should add a free shot feature.

I may have a Stage 5 Clinger (is that how you say it Vinny?). I did mean to call that first guy last night but I do have a life and I, you know, got busy (in many senses of the word). He's already sent another email giving me his real email address. I don't really understand the point of that. Then reiterated that I could call him. Chill dude, it's been 36 hours.

Last night, I decided an additional guideline which means that this little project can be summed up by this clever motto, No Serious Dating, No Serious Mating! I suppose that if someone asks me about my personal motto again I can use that.... yeah.