So, what’s the verdict? What happened with the valet guy?

We are betrothed to be wed this fall!

Just kidding, but we did have a couple beers together, and it was fun.

It was slightly awkward when I accepted his Facebook friend request and then realized the first thing he would see was the link to this very website with the post about me being a brave little creep and asking for his number.

Turns out he had not read it, but not to worry, I  brought it up while we were out so he could read it right there.

…

When 2013 made it’s debut, I confirmed a promise to myself to not put an enormous effort into the pressures of dating.  I even went as far as to suggest to myself not dating at all.  Make friends, meet people, hang out, but no dates. 

I was very comfortable with this notion, and as soon as I had it settled in my mind to dedicate a year to solely dating myself (://hannahsthirties.wordpress.com/2013/01/10/how-to-date-yourself/), every person and their mom informed me they had someone they wanted to set me up with.  I even recently waited on a couple at my restaurant for Valentine’s Day who insisted I meet their friend.  

As you can imagine, I fought and fought to cling to my dating abstinence.

…

Or, if you can pick up on the hints that I’ve nearly been pelting at your heads, you will realize I am being sarcastic and that instead I have become a dating machine.

A machine with emotions and whatnot.

Also, please do not confuse dating machine with whore.  We are talking a beer, a lunch date, and friendly conversation.  If you did get those confused, you were either a.) married to your high school sweet heart when you turned 20 and have no concept of dating in adulthood or b.) you are dating in adulthood and have no concept of what it entails.

In any case, it’s not as frustrating as I thought.  Worst case scenario?  We don’t have similar interests and go our separate ways in life.

Actually, a worst case scenario would be if he couldn’t contribute to conversation, had no sense of humor, constantly scratched his crotch and refused to look away from my tits, with a grand finale of “forgetting his wallet” and an invitation to go back to his place.

That’s bound to happen, I’m sure. 

Time for that Bow Tie,

Cheers!