I've seen The Dane again and I like him enough. I do. He makes me laugh. A lot. He kissed me and I let it happen, realized that I was taller than him in my heels, wondered if he is a little immature for being three years older but he is open and honest and calls when he says he will.
This is two dates in.
The latest bartender sent me a message today after days of nothing, after me assuming I've been blown off, after distracting myself but still thinking about him. Two dates with him and I can't quite put him out of my head. Two dates with him and I feel like I'm having to get over him.
It's probably to do with him being aloof, with me wanting to crack him, get to the bottom of it all. He's a thirty-something-year-old smoker who hasn't lost his v-card, shouldn't I be thanking my damn lucky stars we haven't spoken?
But no.
Today he said something vague and I thought, No. So I told him that unless he wanted to talk to me on the regular then please, please, don't talk to me at all. I do not want to play games. I do not want to make myself crazy. He said, Sorry. He said, I have a lot on my plate. But I like hanging with you. So let's do that in the near future. Deal? And I didn't want to start a texting war, and I told him that, but I also said: I have a lot on my plate too but that doesn't stop me from knowing what I want.
Apparently what I want is him.
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