I had a date last night.
And let me pull you guys aside for a moment, because I’m gonna get real with you. I was talking about this on my facebook status earlier this week, and it’s something that I’ve been dealing with for most of my life.
I like bad boys. I just do. My exhusband was a bad boy. My last serious relationship was with a SUPREME bad boy. There’s something about a man who walks upright like a lion and is just a bad motherfucker… It’s enticing and alluring and exciting. And tattoos and fast cars and cussing and, and, and.
The problem is — and what you’re all thinking — bad boys are bad news!
I know! I know!
But the issue in the past has been that I can’t seem to have a good time with a nice guy. I get bored because they’re, well… Nice and simple and just not exciting to me.
Tonight, however… Well, it was an eyeopening experience.
I had a really great date with a man who was nice… But interesting and a GREAT conversationalist and told funny stories and made me laugh.
And? The kicker?!
I’m attracted to him.
[thud]
(can someone please find some smelling salts pronto?)
We had a lovely dinner at my favorite restaurant then walked down the street and he got a milkshake and I got a float at this little diner. He was a perfect gentleman, the right mix of sweet southern gentleman and smart ass. He walked me to my car at a reasonable hour and we shared a few sweet kisses all wrapped up in each other’s arms.
He also called me afterward to make sure I got home okay… Sweet, y’all.
I want to see him again. Busy schedules suck. But suffice it to say, I will keep you in the loop.
