Tamlin
Okay, so Tamlin emailed me back. There is a date. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have ignition. By all accounts, he appears to be a real person who doesn't live upstairs in his mum's house (apologies to anyone who is transitional at the moment and may feel slighted by that remark). He works, he has kids, he can both read and write. He is witty, but not a clown. He is not married. He is not in a committed relationship. He gardens (swoon). He has a big bunch of bronzy-brown-red hair and he cleanly defines the term angular. Sigh. There are lots of other things that I sense about him, but wouldn't feel comfortable putting into words. You know. Jinx. But I suspect that he's Just My Type. Which is more rare than you might think to meet me. Of course, this may not head in the direction of romance, but you know, WHO CARES? I so love the idea of simply going downtown to meet someone ( especially someone completely unaffiliated with youth sports) and hang out. Just like a real person! After years of raising a child with the only social interaction I had being the other parents on the sidelines of soccer games - well them and my neighbors, I say Whoooooo freaking Hoooooo Raaah! A real conversation with a handsome grown-up male kind of a person. Holy crap, this is great.
Wait.
What am I going to wear!?
Wait.
What am I going to wear!?