And maybe your toes.
Wiley has been at my friend's house since yesterday afternoon, and I haven't gotten an angry "Come get this damn dog!" phone call yet. (Hi, Julie. Do you hate me? I LOVE you.) I am soooo hoping it works out, because it would be such a wonderful home for him. It's a little doggy heaven. He may not be the greatest dog ever, but every dog deserves a good home, and I was really feeling guilty that he had to spend so much time crated at my house. (Damn it, Wiley...why ya gotta chase the cats?) So, fingers crossed.
Okay, was there something else you were wondering? Seems like there was something I wanted to update you on...what was that?
Oh yeah...did you all hear about Alberto Gonzales?
All right, all right... I don't want to jinx things by talking about it too much too soon, but let's just say I had a great weekend, despite having broken pretty much every one of the Safe Internet Dating Rules. I let him pick me up at my house, I rode in his car, I didn't tell anyone exactly when and where we were going, I didn't do a criminal background check, blahblahblah.
But taking two cars to randomly explore the city was going to be SUCH a pain, and I just instantly had such a...comfortable feeling about him. They keep telling us that women should "trust their instincts" and "listen to their gut." And yeah, they usually mean that in the "be more cautious" sense, but why shouldn't it work in reverse, too? My gut was screaming "this is a decent guy," so I took a chance. (Plus I've got a cellphone in my pocket and brass knuckles on my keychain, and he wasn't so big a guy I couldn't take him down if necessary--I'm not completely stupid.)
Besides, he's a band director. A band director would never turn out to be a serial killer, right? I know, I KNOW, that is a completely illogical assumption, but it feels true.
So we explored. I took him to my favorite vegetarian restaurant and he was open-minded enough to enjoy it. I took him to my friend's birthday party and he got along with my friends (and seemed to enjoy himself). Sunday morning he went to church with me. HE WENT TO CHURCH WITH ME. Would a serial killer do that?
My cats seem to like him. Pudge was a little anxious--who is this guy putting the moves on my woman? But when he suggested moving over on the couch so Pudge would have room to sit on my other side, I knew there was a chance this could be good.
He puts the toilet seat down.
So there it stands. I'm...cautiously optimistic, let's say. I didn't get any really entertaining blog fodder from the experience (non-fiction means "not true?"), but I guess I'm okay with that. Heh.