The Date

I have a date tomorrow. 

Yeah, me. The undatable one. I'm going on a date. 

And before you ask, no, this is what I call a go see. My expectations are low and my boundaries strong, the person in question seems nice. We've been chatting on the phone for a few days. He ticks quite a few boxes - you know - likes books, is this side of the Warrigal Road, age appropriate. Scorpio. Can string a sentence together. 

Dating in your middle-age comes down to this sort of thing. It's no longer a criteria of the other person being hot and smelling good. (But clean and smelling good is a non-negotiable). 

He was asking me what sort of burning questions I have for him. Of course I have a lot of questions. But can I learn about things slowly? I ask questions for a living. Let me learn things organically.

And for somebody I'm just meeting, how do you tell them that you've been single all your life, never had a partner, don't have kids - and then they inevitably ask you why this is so. 

Can't first dates just keep to music and movie tastes and the best concerts / film / plays you've seen or the best places you've travelled to or that you found out today that you can still count backwards from ten in Greek. 

Oh, on their profile they put down that they're after a short-term relationship. I'm not sure what that means. I'm not after anything quick. I know I'm better off getting to know somebody before anything happens. I also know that I'm hard to get to know - I've got lots of practice hiding myself away, only letting people in when I'm ready. 

Regardless, with any luck I'll have a nice wander around a bookshop with a seemingly nice fellow and a cup of coffee and if I have a pleasant time, then I'm doing alright. 

Now to not overthink it too much.

Today's song: