Nice, maybe too nice...

Last night I had dinner and drinks with a very nice lady named Renee who I'd have loved to go home with... except for the fact that she has an eight-year-old. She's 45, and has an eight-year-old child.

Nothing's ever perfect, is it?

She had really cute calves and a nice voice, and was terrifically smart, but as the evening went on, I just had the sense she was waiting to be hit by a lightning bolt or something. I'm just not a lightning-bolt guy... only rarely does that overwhelming spark come blasting in to light up a date. I tend to grow on you.

Or not, as the case may be. Still, she smelled wonderful, was very nice to be with, and I'd probably see her again if I had the chance. I am somewhat doubtful I will... she seemed less enthused as the evening went on and she didn't see the lightning.

Oh, yeah: and she appears to be one of those women with permanently-erect nipples. Either that, or she's using those nipple-things they sell on the web now, to make it LOOK like you're standing at attention even if you're not.

Go check it out if you don't believe me...

Got home, talked to Mary about her recently-departed friend and her other friends' reactions, and then got a call from a woman we'll call Beatrice. I'm meeting her Sunday, and for all the signs, she appears to be very girly-girl but also bi. I'm fine with that, but it's new territory for me. And no, I am not one of those guys who's only into lesbianism because I picture myself the chewy center between two pneumatic blonde cookies. But Beatrice said that she was meeting me Sunday, and might, next week, have a date with one of the women who answered her ad online.

There's no end to the adventures.

I now have a paved driveway.

Two years ago today I was in a bar with my friends staring at a television, after everyone left work and went somewhere to watch the news for the next three or four days.