First, this is totally the fault of The Queen. Except that it's the fault of me because I'm foolish enough to listen to her. And also I was foolish enough to start this damned online thing in the first place. But in the end? We’re blaming The Queen.
For what? For the fact that I just sent an email to Potential Dude agreeing to the first meeting.
Of course now I’m crafting just the right E-pology for when I come to my senses and don’t actually meet him. KIDDING! (probably)
The meeting won’t happen all that soon – this weekend was already booked to the gills and I never have available time on Mondays, Tuesdays or Wednesdays – so I have several days to think about this. And thinking about this is the worst thing for Mr. Potential. Because given enough time it’s entirely possible that I’ll come to senses of some sort. My gut says “poop idea” and if I go with my gut I don’t go to meet Potential Dude.
But I do go, and why do I go? I go for you guys. For you, my trusty readers in Seattle and Minneapolis and Silverton and Chicago… For you, my noble, lovely, witty and clever readers I will go and meet this silly, silly man.
But you can’t make me like it.
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