not from xenophobia or agoraphobia.
but because this morning the pants asked for my street address, and a few hours later asked me if anyone’s come to my door today.
i have some errands to run, but my interest is piqued!
it could be because this is 6 months from our first date, and tonight we’re re-enacting our first date (mexican food, and me kicking his ass at trivial pursuit) except probably shorter because said date wound up lasting 10 hours (because we were talking then i played guitar then we started watching movies, not because it was dirty, you filthy-minded scolds). it was also not going to be a date when it started, it was going to be a hanging out with a friend. but it turned into a date. and then it turned into me calling a perfectly nice man “pants” on the internet and people making fun of him for being called pants. if you’re wondering, i call him pants because it makes him think he wears the pants in the relationship. and because he wears pants when he’s out in public which avoids very awkward conversations when we talk to priests and very old women.
for the record, since i’m speaking of that night, here’s a message for you single boys: most girls love it when you ask if you can kiss them. but it only has the magic that first time, so don’t miss your opportunity. and don’t shove your tongue down her throat. give a quick kiss and know that it’s time to make your exit.*
*also for the record, pants did this exactly right.** i’m sure he’s thrilled that i’m sharing this with you, and i’m sure vic will mock him, but if vic mocks him for this, i will make him cry. got that, vic? just so we’re clear. :)
**if my dad were still alive, i’d add the caveat here that he’s never actually kissed me, and we’re waiting until marriage before he’s allowed to kiss my hand. our fifth anniversay he’ll be allowed to kiss my cheek.