Don't Fuck Up

Dear Dearest Lola,

You have a date with your number one seed tonight. This occurrence happened rather quickly. You got impatient, harassed the poor boy, he said pick a time and place, you said Thursday. He countered with Friday. You said, I have plans with my ladies on Friday, countering back with tonight or Sunday. He said tonight.

So, you've bathed and shaved. Watched some Buffy the Vampire Slayer to take your mind off the impending date (drinks at 9). You watched Xander's eye get fucked up, and that was unsettling, but you've shaken it off. You've thought about The Hills and how Alejandro got weepy today when Whitney left for NYC. You've eaten a carb-heavy meal, tucked away the teddy bear that lives in your bed (jic), and have oiled your hair with Moroccan oil. You're ready. But...

You're nervous as hell. And you don't know why. Perhaps because this date has so much more potential than Bean. Perhaps because the only first date you've been on in a year was with Bean, and well, you know how well that went. Perhaps you're nervous because you've come on really strong. Perhaps because this dude calls you on your shit (already); he's a straight-shooter. Perhaps because you're not really sure what his face looks like. Perhaps because he's skinny, and you've vowed never to date thin men. Perhaps because your hair is still wet, yet you sit here writing. Perhaps because you have offered to pay because he's in grad school and has no money. Perhaps because he's smart. Perhaps because he kindly emailed you the recipe for a perfect steak.

So, remember, Self, don't call him Face Guy to his face. Don't almost call him Face Guy, like the time you almost called Sister Kendra, Sister Satan during 10th grade bio. Don't get too drunk and tell him about the dating blog. You're an open book and while that is something you like about yourself, don't shoot yourself in the foot by announcing to this kid that's he's apart of some larger social dating experiment. Don't ask too many questions. Don't forget you're not fat like you think you are. Don't put all your eggs in one basket, or chickens in the hen house, or however that saying goes. Don't call yourself an alcholic or a whore. Don't talk about your ex-boyfriends, or too much about your cats. And for god's sake, Lola, don't come call him Face Guy.

That's all. Go get 'em Tiger.

Love always,

Lola