So after months of anticipation and hopefully exiting from my apartment building, I finally have a date with Hottie Neighbor (going forward noted as H.N.) You may remember him from a previous post. He helped me move into my apartment when it was 100 degrees outside, and I thought my poor stepfather may just pass out.
In the months since I've been here I have occasionally seen him as we pass one another coming and going from the building. He has mentioned we should get a drink, though has been reluctant to just ask me out. Patience in these matters, or rather game playing, is something I have no time for. So with some nudging from my wise friend, Catherine (who incidentally is also my neighbor), convinced me that I needed to leave H.N. a note. Several weeks ago, I saw H.N. and he said I should just pick a place and time and he'd be there. So I picked a time.
It is also important to point out that normally I am not the least bit shy with men, regardless of how good-looking they are. H.N. is a different story. I literally end up tongue-tied. Babbling something I have not thought through. And I also always manage to be doing some glamorous task like taking out the trash every time he sees me. My hair is invariably in 10 different directions. What a mess. Apparently, he has not yet been scared off.
It is also worth saying that I have already gone so far as to imagine knocking down the sealed door that separates our apartments so we can have one great living space. I have also taken that a step further and imagined that my landlord will retire and we can buy the whole darn building to populate with my favorite friends. It's really a lovely fantasy.
I saw H.N. on my way out today and I asked him if he had a favorite place in the neighborhood. He suggested we have dinner instead of just drinks. He chose Gabriella because it has great margaritas. So 7:30pm, Sunday night. I am going to knock on his door and off to dinner we'll go. Great.
And then I go on my way, completely panicked. My friend Steve (who tauts himself as "almost a gay man" because he watches Sex in the City nightly, and likes it) and I had already planned my outfit. For a drink only! Now we are expanding that to dinner. This changes everything. So I call Steve back. "Now what do I do?" He needs some time, and needs to consult his wife, Lianne, on the issue. He'll get back to me on wardrobe choice.
So for now, I am seated at my dining table, typing on this keyboard, and staring at the door that separates me from H.N. Maybe Sunday night will be the night I find my good pal to be in the world with...
(the photo above can be found at http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/2265929/2/istockphoto_2265929_blank_note_on_door.jpg)