i sat down with a coffee on my bent knee
i have a mad girlcrush on a man named john.
the first date we went on was at a coffee shop. he walked in the door (which i of course had been guardedly watching out of the corner of my eye over my mediocre americano like a freaking hawk) and i nearly choked. in a good way. we spent four hours drinking coffee and talking about things like mental health awareness, linen preferences, political stances, and whether breakfast for dinner was the best or the worst. (for the record, it's the best and i will not be convinced otherwise).
on our following dates, we drank wine in my living room with a random playlist i mashed together and disclosed all of those things you're supposed to disclose. we also made out like sixteen year olds. or, well, what i imagine sixteen year olds make out like since i didn't really kiss anyone when i was sixteen. i waited until i was twenty, and it was not particularly memorable in a good way.
however, john is at a point in his life where he needs some time, and doesn't feel like he can date anyone. insert the super sad trombone noise here.
while i am attempting to respect this declaration, i am also embracing my sixteen year old self and have sent off what i feel is a respectful, witty, and did i mention respectful? text that has resulted in the possibility of coffee next week. i am leery at holding out a great deal of hope, but that whole "embrace optimism! take chances!" sentiment usually wins out.
perhaps, though, i should have refrained from telling him that i sounded like a two bit whore with a whiskey problem. maybe?