Oh, brother... Mr. Butterflies, you do throw quite the wrench in my year of 52 dates...
Mr. Butterflies (aka Best. First. Date. Ever. Period.) is really making me swoon. The day after our first date that lasted 6 hours he sent me this text. "Just thinking of you and smiling"
Ahhhhh, sigh... :)
Here is the text message I got from him asking me out for the second time.
A formula: C x B = W:
Crigger-chan hangs out with Mr. Butterflies at some point over the Weekend. Class are there any questions?
*Note that the initials have been changed... Though it would be kind of funny if he referred to himself as Mr. Butterflies.*
The only questions I had were, "When? Where? And what should I wear?"
"How about meeting up in Laguna Beach?"
Score! Laguna is a great place for a second date. Cute streets. Delicious restaurants. Lots of bars with dark corners in which to kiss. Only one small problem. And by small, I mean GIANT. Rex lives in Laguna Beach. I DO NOT want to run into him on what I am hoping will be a great second date. That, in fact, sounds like the perfect way to ruin a great date. Thankfully, I know Rex is planning to be on the boat Friday night. So Friday, in Laguna it is! Now let's just hope I don't run into any of his friends...
Mr. Butterflies arrived at my apartment just after 8:00. At this point I had been through three costume changes, two hairstyles, and a hefty glass of wine. On my previous dates I have rolled up in what I wore to work, old stand-bys that I feel can be wasted on an okay date I'm not expecting much from, or jeans and a t-shirt. I clearly wasn't worrying too much about attire. Which is shocking I know, coming from the Queen of the Closet, but they need to impress me, not the other way around. I invited Mr. Butterflies into my apartment, which is shocking. I never invite people into my apartment, actually there are very few people who even know my address. Some people are crazy. You never know where the Craig's List Killer is hanging out on OkCupid. So, I just generally don't want people knowing too much about me very early on. But having done a significant background check on Mr. Butterflies, his stories all checked out, and no criminal record to speak of, I invited him in.
I even offered him some of my coveted Apple Pie Moonshine, so now you know I really like him. I don't share that delicious elixir with just anyone...
After an hour or so of sitting on my couch, drinking a bit of moonshine, we headed out to Laguna. We grabbed dinner at a sushi restaurant. The way to this girl's heart is through raw fish. After sushi we went to a Belgium Bar for a beer and to settle a basketball bet. I said that basketball was invented in Canada, because James Naismith is Canadian. He said Indiana. Turns out we were both wrong, because it was actually invented in Massachusetts. But since I was convinced it was Canadian I insisted on buying our beer. The Belgium beer was delicious and the atmosphere was pretty great too. Apparently walking down those 8 steps into the subterranean bar had actually transported us to somewhere in Eastern Europe with its funky house music and crazy light shows. Oh, and the hilarious dancing of the interesting clientele. At one point Sweatpants-Boy, who was sitting beside us, bit the dust. This answered our question of why he was out in sweatpants. Clearly dancing is more of a sport for him than the rest of us.
After we left Poland we strolled around the quiet streets of Laguna, his arm around my shoulders, my arm around his waist. Allowing another human being to touch my in public is a very big deal. There have been people I have dated for years and haven't wanted them to so much as hold my hand in public. Heaven forbid someone get the wrong idea and think I am taken... But with Mr. Butterflies, he can put his arm around me and cuddle me close all he wants.
Our next stop was a little bar tucked away on a side street. The lighting was low and it had cobblestone floors. The lamps looked like they were a hold-over from a bygone era when everything was lit by gas. I immediately liked it. We found seats on a bench and nestled in, taking in the space and leaning against each other. It is easy and comfortable with Mr. Butterflies. At one point he looked down at me and kissed me so softly and lightly I briefly wasn't sure if it had actually happened. Or if I had managed to hallucinate the whole moment.
"I've wanted to do that from the moment I first saw you... I came around the corner and saw you standing there. I thought you were so cute. I really wanted you to be the girl I was meeting."
So, I guess I wasn't hallucinating. Instead, maybe I have the ability to conjure Nora Roberts movie characters ala You've Got Mail into real life? It is like when Tom Hanks comes into the park and Meg Ryan says, "I wanted it to be you," except I guess I am Tom instead of Meg. Did someone tell Mr. Butterflies You've Got Mail basically ran in a loop in my DVD player for years?
After a few more moments in the bar we decided to head back to the car, grabbed a beach bag (what a planner he is) with a towel, some bourbon, and an Ale-8, and head down to the water. Boy does this man know the formula for making me fall hard and fast! We sat on the beach until it was far later than either of us intended. While I should have been tired, I wasn't. On all other dates I would have bounced long before now. On other dates I wouldn't even have gone down by the beach (hello Natalie Halloway...). But sometimes you just know you are in the middle of your very own romantic comedy and you should just enjoy it. And I was pretty sure he wasn't going to leave me dead in a ditch. :)
Mr. Butterflies (aka Best. First. Date. Ever. Period.) is really making me swoon. The day after our first date that lasted 6 hours he sent me this text. "Just thinking of you and smiling"
Ahhhhh, sigh... :)
Here is the text message I got from him asking me out for the second time.
A formula: C x B = W:
Crigger-chan hangs out with Mr. Butterflies at some point over the Weekend. Class are there any questions?
*Note that the initials have been changed... Though it would be kind of funny if he referred to himself as Mr. Butterflies.*
The only questions I had were, "When? Where? And what should I wear?"
"How about meeting up in Laguna Beach?"
Score! Laguna is a great place for a second date. Cute streets. Delicious restaurants. Lots of bars with dark corners in which to kiss. Only one small problem. And by small, I mean GIANT. Rex lives in Laguna Beach. I DO NOT want to run into him on what I am hoping will be a great second date. That, in fact, sounds like the perfect way to ruin a great date. Thankfully, I know Rex is planning to be on the boat Friday night. So Friday, in Laguna it is! Now let's just hope I don't run into any of his friends...
Mr. Butterflies arrived at my apartment just after 8:00. At this point I had been through three costume changes, two hairstyles, and a hefty glass of wine. On my previous dates I have rolled up in what I wore to work, old stand-bys that I feel can be wasted on an okay date I'm not expecting much from, or jeans and a t-shirt. I clearly wasn't worrying too much about attire. Which is shocking I know, coming from the Queen of the Closet, but they need to impress me, not the other way around. I invited Mr. Butterflies into my apartment, which is shocking. I never invite people into my apartment, actually there are very few people who even know my address. Some people are crazy. You never know where the Craig's List Killer is hanging out on OkCupid. So, I just generally don't want people knowing too much about me very early on. But having done a significant background check on Mr. Butterflies, his stories all checked out, and no criminal record to speak of, I invited him in.
I even offered him some of my coveted Apple Pie Moonshine, so now you know I really like him. I don't share that delicious elixir with just anyone...
After an hour or so of sitting on my couch, drinking a bit of moonshine, we headed out to Laguna. We grabbed dinner at a sushi restaurant. The way to this girl's heart is through raw fish. After sushi we went to a Belgium Bar for a beer and to settle a basketball bet. I said that basketball was invented in Canada, because James Naismith is Canadian. He said Indiana. Turns out we were both wrong, because it was actually invented in Massachusetts. But since I was convinced it was Canadian I insisted on buying our beer. The Belgium beer was delicious and the atmosphere was pretty great too. Apparently walking down those 8 steps into the subterranean bar had actually transported us to somewhere in Eastern Europe with its funky house music and crazy light shows. Oh, and the hilarious dancing of the interesting clientele. At one point Sweatpants-Boy, who was sitting beside us, bit the dust. This answered our question of why he was out in sweatpants. Clearly dancing is more of a sport for him than the rest of us.
After we left Poland we strolled around the quiet streets of Laguna, his arm around my shoulders, my arm around his waist. Allowing another human being to touch my in public is a very big deal. There have been people I have dated for years and haven't wanted them to so much as hold my hand in public. Heaven forbid someone get the wrong idea and think I am taken... But with Mr. Butterflies, he can put his arm around me and cuddle me close all he wants.
Our next stop was a little bar tucked away on a side street. The lighting was low and it had cobblestone floors. The lamps looked like they were a hold-over from a bygone era when everything was lit by gas. I immediately liked it. We found seats on a bench and nestled in, taking in the space and leaning against each other. It is easy and comfortable with Mr. Butterflies. At one point he looked down at me and kissed me so softly and lightly I briefly wasn't sure if it had actually happened. Or if I had managed to hallucinate the whole moment.
"I've wanted to do that from the moment I first saw you... I came around the corner and saw you standing there. I thought you were so cute. I really wanted you to be the girl I was meeting."
So, I guess I wasn't hallucinating. Instead, maybe I have the ability to conjure Nora Roberts movie characters ala You've Got Mail into real life? It is like when Tom Hanks comes into the park and Meg Ryan says, "I wanted it to be you," except I guess I am Tom instead of Meg. Did someone tell Mr. Butterflies You've Got Mail basically ran in a loop in my DVD player for years?
After a few more moments in the bar we decided to head back to the car, grabbed a beach bag (what a planner he is) with a towel, some bourbon, and an Ale-8, and head down to the water. Boy does this man know the formula for making me fall hard and fast! We sat on the beach until it was far later than either of us intended. While I should have been tired, I wasn't. On all other dates I would have bounced long before now. On other dates I wouldn't even have gone down by the beach (hello Natalie Halloway...). But sometimes you just know you are in the middle of your very own romantic comedy and you should just enjoy it. And I was pretty sure he wasn't going to leave me dead in a ditch. :)
I would like to point out that a more accurate formula would have been: C + B x W = X. Solve for X.
ReplyDeleteRegardless, good blogging :)