25 in 25, Date Numero Uno.

Passengers aboard flight 063009, this is your captain speaking. I have had the laziest day imaginable and am going to be unable to sleep at a decent hour because of just how dormir'ing I did, but I don't really feel bad about any of this day. With that said, it is finally tiempo to re-hash the first date of my twentyfive first dates, which took place last nite with "Jerry Maguire," the mid-30's sports agent from Indy. He met me at a local steakhouse in town (yes, he made the drive here), and on first impressions, he was cute, but only a couple inches taller than me (and I was rocking 4 inchers, of course), and had this one slightly darkened tooth that I could never quite get over, even two hours into dinner. Conversation was easy the entire time, and as I hadn't eaten the whole day previous, I devoured crab cakes, bread, my filet, and some asparagus while I also talked and talked and talked, multi-tasking at its finest. He ate half his entree, and took the rest home, and after leaving the drink ordering up to me, I chose a glass of cab for both of us as he was a self-admitted "non-connoisseur," I ended up eventually drinking 1/2 of his glass as well as he couldn't get through it. Sigh. It was such a lovely cab though.

We talked about everything from past relationships-- my divorce, and his 3 yr engagement to someone 10 years his junior (I'm 9 anos younger than him), our love for family (especially our siblings), sports, hobbies, the details and ins and outs of his job as an NFL player representative. He tried to impress me, I think, by the fact that he has Peyton Manning's cell phone number, which he calls only as an occasional drunk dial with his friends, but failed to do so. I really think when he showed it to me on his phone he expected me to program it into my own, but as he found out, I really am not a jersey chaser, nor do I get excited about too much celebrity shit, so I opted to simply acknowledge it and move on. I've had my drunken moment with Peyton at the bars a few years ago when he embraced me after I told him I'd still think he was the greatest qb to ever live even if he never won a superbowl and that he didn't have to worry about me b/c I didn't want to sleep with him, and that is def. going to suffice for me. "Jerry" found himself sort of enamored with my sports knowingness (yes, I made that palabra up, deal with it), and even commented after listening to me ramble on about something deportes related, "Wow, I really thought your match profile was kinda like a real life "There's something about Mary" but you actually know you're shit."

All in all, I found him to be good company, appreciated him picking up a pretty decent dinner check, with easy conversation and numerous elements between us in common, and he did mention wanting me to trek over to Indy sometime soon and swim with him and then go watch some live music later on in the evening. I could see myself potentially friending him, as he was a nice guy, but there failed to exist any sparks between us, at least on my end.

And then there were 24.

And now, for the sesenta-cuarenta. That's kind of fun to say.

1. Good- I have officially re-entered the dating world and I am currently texting/e-mailing/talking to approx. six to eight other potential matches at the moment, including a dental school student today, as well as a professional soccer player in Chicago. Haha.
2. Good- I am finally scheduled to work tomorrow after having four days off. Yes, I actually like my job and I need to start cranking out some productive days.
3. Bad- I could have had date 2 today at lunch with MD to Be but will now have to make the trip to Indy to see him as I rescheduled with him because I was so damn tired today following nite before ending up a little loco.
4. Good- This crazy little flurried end to my noche was brought on by the wine at dinner, some Asahi's with my boss at work while I watched him work on our basement expansion, and then meeting up with and having yet another two steps forward, three steps back conversation with the Jugador at Applebees. I felt like he and I actually sort of got somewhere last nite, after arguing like is standard for us, and him ending our conversation with, "You don't know how I feel, so don't say I don't care. I'm at home all the time, you know you can stop by whenever, and when you call from now on, I'll actually answer my phone." (Sidenote: Not holding my breath here.)
5. Bad- As I left 'Bees and this convo with the Jugador, he told me if I really cared about him then I would just chill out for the nite and go home. I didn't. And ended up tomando'ing with his hermano and otro friends of his that I'm certain told him all about it today. Thus is life.
6. Good- I think the Hooper is about to come over and kick it. I haven't actually hung out with him for over two weeks, even though I talk to him nearly every day.
7. Bad- For once, I was really kinda purging him from my system, understanding that it is best for us to only ever be friends, and was fine with this idea, great actually, and the past few days that I have been feeling this way, he has blown up my cell with calls and texts wanting to spend time with me. It's the unwritten but understood phenomenon in liking someone, that when you are finally over it, whatever "it" is, and going your own way, he/she will somehow come breezing back into the picture.
8. Good- I'm so excited about my 24 other dates and everything else that I have on deck I am actually not bothered by this re-emergence of his attention at all. If I can chill with him, cool, if not, cool. Elongated sigh of relief.
9. Bad- Me duele mi estomago.
10. Good- My heart is open, my head is clear, and my spirit is light. Es una vida hermosa ahorita.

Xoxo to all, and to all a good night.