Wow. Last night was a bit exhausting. In the early stages of our relationship, ExBFname told me that dating a comedian could be hard because he is used to being the funny one. This is always a red flag. REALLY funny people usually don't say that, but we all know that I'm making exceptions these days.
As I approached the local eatery, I saw a thin-framed man leaning against the wall. I called out, "Are you ExBFname?" His response: "I hope so because I'm wearing his underwear." Here we go.
We sidle up to the bar, and the bartender recognizes me. I'm not sure if this is a good thing, or confirms that I spend too much money on the juice. ExBFname starts filling me in on his life, and then I realize what the voice thing is all about. He's in radio. He's been a morning disc jockey and BOY does he talk like one. And he has fascial expressions to match, so everything is big, big, big. It was like watching an Off Broadway play whilst sitting on the stage. BIG. And loud.
I had 2 Proseccos and he had a glass of red wine. Oh you guys, I wish you could have seen him try the wine. The swirl, the looking at the legs, the nose in the glass, the sip. But remember, BIG. I suggested we leave because he needed to be up at 6am so he could "be on the top of the mountain as the sun rises." Yup. Can't make this stuff up.
Well, y'all know me. I had an ulterior motive and walked to the local pub down the street to meet the girls. We eventually decided to change locations, and on the way out, I meet Victor. French Victor at that. He had a bush of curly hair on his head that I instantly wanted to pet. But I didn't. I gave him my number. He's already texted. I smell a French date on the horizon.
Tonight is the big shin dig and I fear I may be dateless. Neighbor is scared of me, Sober Guy has to work (but assured me he wants meet soon), and ExBFname is a no go. That must mean something unexpected will happen tonight. Please make him foreign and hairy. Amen.