Shorty is such a little shit talking mini-womanizer, it's not even funny. And by that, I mean, it is completely hysterical. What a pretty little face he has. And all I can think, while I listen to him spout on about how he can't believe I didn't contact him for a week and every day he waited for my messages, is how fucking lethal he would be, were I five years younger and less experienced than I am. The amount of sincerity he can muster for his nonsense makes me think he even has himself convinced.
But the point is, the date with Smalltown and Shorty's friend went brilliantly. I think it might be a genu-wine love connection. And I was amused enough to watch, and flirt with the baby, all the while trying not to think about something else.
Well. Now it's time for bed. Well past time for bed, in fact.
You know, I'm almost afraid to walk away from this in a week, to leave it alone while I visit my family for two weeks. Like somehow my life here will carry on without me while I'm gone, and I might miss something. Surely that's a sign of a life being well lived. Or lived, anyway. Which is good enough for me.