Of course, rats DO have a bit of a PR problem, after that whole plague thing

It seems that if I take a couple weeks off this whole sharing my life with the Internets thing, I completely forget how to do it. I have done lots and lots of mildly if not completely interesting things lately, and yet here I sit, staring at a blank Blogger box, not sure what to tell you about any of them. This is one of those times when a bulleted list of what I've been up to might be in order, but I would actually have to consult a calendar for that, such is the scattered and forgetful state of my brain lately. Besides that, I am guessing that most of you don't care which film festival movies or concerts I've seen recently. Perhaps you are more interested in the outcome of my M-P-R-ty date?

I think we can safely call that a date, by the way. Not because of any solidly positive outcome post-get-together, but because he paid. Ignoring all nuances and variables, isn't that the simplest metric we all know? I hadn't planned on him paying, by the way, even though it ended up being one of those inconveniently alcohol-free Coffee Dates, meaning that him footing my bill set him back all of a mere three dollars, give or take a dime. But he reached the counter first, and although my wallet was out, he turned to me after ordering and asked, "And what would you like?" Because I will always be the girl who lets whatever thought is in her head find its way immediately out of her mouth, I said, "I ask you out for a drink, and you end up paying?" To which he replied, "Well, sure! That's the way it goes, isn't it?" True, I suppose. That is the way it goes. On dates, generally. I decided that comment meant we were on one.

So then. How did it go? I have no idea, actually. I mean, I had a lovely time and would be happy to see him again, but that nonsense back in December has left me unable to trust my instincts in these scenarios. We talked comfortably and easily. He laughed at my jokes. I laughed at his. But he is also a very charismatic, warm, and friendly individual. I would venture to guess that he could have a comfortable and easy conversation with Hannibal Lecter. Maybe he would have bought Hannibal's coffee, too. My point is that I think he probably left feeling he had a perfectly pleasant time, but whether "perfectly pleasant" equates to just a routine, benign way to pass a Sunday morning or a spark of interest in something or someone new is anyone's guess right now.

I ended up with about 20 minutes to kill between the time our coffee date dispersed and the time my next plans for the day began, and since the next item on my agenda was only a few blocks from Carrie's place, I stopped over to give her an update.

"Well? What did you learn about him?" she asked.

I tried to formulate a brief summary. "He has two cats, he is not afraid of ghosts, and he thinks rats and pigeons have been unfairly maligned."

"That's a good list," Carrie replied. "Is that what you wore?"

I was a little worried for a minute that I should have posted a photo poll to garner wardrobe advice after all, but Carrie quickly assured me that my outfit was fine and the jeans I'd chosen were worthy of an encouraging and suggestive facial expression I'm not sure I've seen her make in my direction before. I don't actually think there is anything special about those particular jeans. I think she's just so happy to see me in anything other than the four identical pairs of Mossimo jeans I somehow acquired that she would make any face necessary to help ensure I consider buying a new pair of pants in this decade.

So. Now we wait. And I stop typing, because there is no sense typing about something that may be nothing and because I really do think it's best if I just put this out of my mind in a come what may (forget what may not) sort of way.

All that out of the way, let's move on. What did you do this weekend?