What a week. I ran my first 5k ever, I seem to have lost 5 pounds, might have met someone who makes me feel all fuzzy, like may have the potential to put some fertilizer around my Grinch heart to make it grow again, and there was Hurricane Sandy.
I’ve been itchin to write the 5k post, but I need to take my time on that one, because I have some interesting thoughts and feelings on the whole experience, and this post may rival the infamous first Zumba class post that I wrote that actually led to me being Freshly Pressed, which still amazes me.
Even if I don’t get the same kind of love, I just want it to be good, because it was a great moment for me, and I can’t find the video clip of this car commercial that features audio texts that a woman gets after she ran a marathon and was limping back to her car. And I need that clip to really illustrate how crazy I was looking after the race when the adrenaline left the building.
So back to the confessions.
A good, good friend who I admire and love, her birthday is today. Halloween.
Since she’s taking her little one trick or treating, she has expressed that she’d rather celebrate over the weekend with a little get together at my home featuring our favorite “bad” movies and a little food and some sweets.
I’m all about it.
I instantly started looking up recipes for appetizers and have been in plan mode. It’s easy to get this way because, I love this person, but more and more I think I’m starting to realize that I do enjoy hosting and making sure folks have a damn good time.
I don’t do it often.
But when I do, I’m serious about it. And there is something about Fall and Halloween that make certain intimate gatherings even more fun and more intimate and you can have foods and drinks that warm you up and there’s just something about the hearth and home feeling you get. I really love Thanksgiving too. I secretly enjoy cooking when I don’t feel rushed and feeding people and having people like what I make. Oh so there’s another confession.
I have a feeling I’ll be shopping for goodies and surprises for my friend even though she said, not to make a big fuss.
So, she reads this blog.
Hunny, I’m going to go to the Dollar Store (the place where I go to stock up for all of my parties). So see? No trouble at all!
This came out of no where as it often does.
I’m crushing on someone.
He’s younger. I’m usually anti younger, but he’s 28, that doesn’t count. Two years, ok. I can work with it.
The online wasteland actually coughed up something of interest.
He sends texts, but wait!
He actually calls, like we have conversations. Last night we talked from 9 p.m. til about 12:30 a.m. He even said, “Take your butt to bed, we gotta go to work tomorrow, but I don’t want to get off the phone.”
To which I replied, “Awww. I feel special.” I started singing that reggae song, “I’m so special.” I could feel him shaking his head through the phone as he kept saying, “Really?” “Really?”
I spared him from me doing this….
We have interesting conversations and we can even crack jokes. He gets my sense of humor and I think he’s pretty funny, which is crucial.
He seems smart, well-adjusted and has gone on enough of his share of bad dates too. We like the same types of music and he grew up in a religious family too.
He’s educated, seems to have a pretty good job, but he doesn’t lead with that.
I actually like seeing his name in my phone. That’s a super good, good sign.
We have not set up a date yet, although he tried to convince me to ditch working online yesterday (while the rest of the east coast was off work, ahem) to join him at IHOP. Oh, I was tempted.
But I look forward to whenever we do actually hang out. I’m really hoping the chemistry is just as good in person.
This is refreshing, because I just never gave younger guys a chance. I did once, last year, he was 22. I was being absurd.
I gave him some and he wouldn’t leave me alone. Calling my house all times of night (typical college hours, but not grown employed folk hours).
So, I decided if months ago I could go 17 years older, what in the world is the harm of going two years younger?
I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t. But I can’t help but think, something is different about this one, which kind of by default is getting my hopes up.
Down hopes, down.
These are my confessions. Shhh. Don’t tell noooobody.
I leave you with some vintage Floetry. “Butterflies” Live!!!