I'm just your average, everyday, divorced 38 year old girl -- overweight, tragically unhip,
and trying to make a life for myself. I live with two furry beasts, Dave and Abby, whose
feline mission in life is to choke me with their fur. Nothing special.
Friday night (at DFW). OK, I'm sure I have no readers left but, just on the off chance that one of you stuck it out, I thought I'd check in.
What a week! Omigosh, so much fun, food, alcohol, fun, and a very cute boy to boot. Yes, that's right...a cute boy. Where to start, where to start? Let's go with the food, shall we?
I ate at Red Fish Grill on Tuesday night, as recommended by the lovely Miss Shannin, and I had the Dijon whitefish. Wednesday night was Delmonico's and I had New York steak with potatoes au gratin. Last night was NOLAs, Ribeye, and fingerling potatoes. Lunches were much lower key and included red beans and rice, Jambalaya, and a muffalata sandwich. Yowsa!
Lots of alcohol, too. I had several hurricanes at Pat O'Brians. I had my very first Cosmopolitan at the hotel bar. I did shots of Patron with aforementioned cute boy at the House of Blues. I drank champagne. I drank red wine. I drank everything at least once. I stayed out late every night and I think I got about 18 hours of sleep the entire week. I love it! Speaking of love...
Saving the very best for last, I met a boy. My gosh he's cute. He's cute, dead sexy, funny as all get out, smart, single, and he lives 2,000 miles away. (Well, at least it's an improvement over 2,300 miles away, right?) He works for one of our competitors and was attending the same conference, although we'd never met previously. Did I mention he's cute? And he has lots of other nice ASSets, too. There was no kissing but there was plenty of dirty dancing, lots of holding and caressing (all above the waist), and and lots of racing hearts. There's something in his life right now that made him feel that he couldn't kiss me and I totally respect what he's doing so I (very reluctantly) went along. That didn't mean, however, that we didn't spend 30 minutes in the elevator lobby with me saying, "just kiss me once," our parted lips hovering tantalizingly close to lips, eyes, cheeks, neck, and hair, and his telling me that, if he kissed me, we'd end up in bed because he couldn't make himself stop if he started. Funny thing was that I'd convinced myself (and all of my poor friends) that he didn't like me because, every time we'd get close, he'd pull away. We'd be dancing so close that I could feel every inch of him pressed against me, and then he'd just take off to go hang out with someone else. I was totally convinced that he wasn't interested and was just doing a pity thing or something, but, armed with the knowledge that I have now (and confirmed by my friend Ashly's assessment upon hearing the facts), I know that he was walking away temporarily to cool down because I was getting him so hot. Me. Getting someone hot. Can you even imagine???
Anyway, we left it with the knowledge that we'll see each other again in May and that (to quote him), "if we still feel the same way then (and I'm sure we will), we can act on it to our hearts' content". I know that, if it's meant to happen that it will, and I have this warm, happy feeling about it.
Warm and happy is good. Warm and happy is very good.
