The Way to a Girl's Heart
Thursday, 29. May 2008, 12:16:44
Somewhere in amongst all the fun we’ve been having an invisible line has been crossed. Debbie and I are now no longer merely dating, but – in my head anyway – seem to have graduated to the shiny, sparkling, sun-bathed next level of ‘Boyfriend’ and ‘Girlfriend’ (I'm resisting the urge to get T-shirts made). Imagine Mario’s cheery little ‘1up!’ tingle-jingle as an emotion and you'll have some idea how this makes me feel. 
After a few weeks playing the usual angsty doubting game with myself, I came to realise these dark thoughts only crawled out from under their rocks while I was alone: when I was with Debbie I was perfectly happy to continue being with Debbie. Yes, let me say that again so as to highlight my achingly precise word choice: perfectly happy. There has been more than one occasion recently where I’ve been happier and more contented in her house (in her company, in her arms...) than I have been in my own beloved fortress of solitude for as long as I can remember...news which will no doubt come as a shock to those of you familiar with my lifestyle choice of 'grumpy old hermit'.
That’s ‘Hermit’, not ‘Kermit’.
I think my head is in the right place, too; I feel incredibly lucky, honoured even, that she doesn’t run screaming from my presence as most women do (thank god, because pepper sprays really sting
) and even seems keen to see more and more of me. I’m not stressing about the future (although I did wonder if the recent invitation for a coffee after work was her wanting a neutral place to break up with me – that turned out to be as silly a thought in real life as it sounds writing it down here) but I'm not getting mindlessly carried away either, which is a tremendously good sign: the more obsessive I become, the shorter the fascination usually lasts.
We’ve arranged to meet tomorrow after work so I can take her up to my place., the first time she’ll have been there. Since suggesting it to her on Monday I’ve spent a week neurotically planning the whole thing and staring at every nook and cranny of my house as if sheer force of will could magically make it presentable enough for her. I'm more than a little intimidated by her beautiful house, so tidy and clean (Cleaning in my house being an annual event). I may have to 'accidentally' poke her in the eyes early on so that for the rest of the night she's too worried about that to be horrified by any dirt I've missed.
When asked what she would like me to cook for her she chose Lasagne, a dish I have never made before but feel confident enough about the fundamentals of to give me a good chance of blowing her socks off, or indeed any part of her clothing...
A light italian salad - plenty of black olives and balsamic dressing, some exotic, doughy tear-and-share bread, a deep, fruity red wine, and some kind of amazing mouth-watering dessert (TBA) should complete the effect. 
After a few weeks playing the usual angsty doubting game with myself, I came to realise these dark thoughts only crawled out from under their rocks while I was alone: when I was with Debbie I was perfectly happy to continue being with Debbie. Yes, let me say that again so as to highlight my achingly precise word choice: perfectly happy. There has been more than one occasion recently where I’ve been happier and more contented in her house (in her company, in her arms...) than I have been in my own beloved fortress of solitude for as long as I can remember...news which will no doubt come as a shock to those of you familiar with my lifestyle choice of 'grumpy old hermit'.
That’s ‘Hermit’, not ‘Kermit’.
I think my head is in the right place, too; I feel incredibly lucky, honoured even, that she doesn’t run screaming from my presence as most women do (thank god, because pepper sprays really sting
) and even seems keen to see more and more of me. I’m not stressing about the future (although I did wonder if the recent invitation for a coffee after work was her wanting a neutral place to break up with me – that turned out to be as silly a thought in real life as it sounds writing it down here) but I'm not getting mindlessly carried away either, which is a tremendously good sign: the more obsessive I become, the shorter the fascination usually lasts.We’ve arranged to meet tomorrow after work so I can take her up to my place., the first time she’ll have been there. Since suggesting it to her on Monday I’ve spent a week neurotically planning the whole thing and staring at every nook and cranny of my house as if sheer force of will could magically make it presentable enough for her. I'm more than a little intimidated by her beautiful house, so tidy and clean (Cleaning in my house being an annual event). I may have to 'accidentally' poke her in the eyes early on so that for the rest of the night she's too worried about that to be horrified by any dirt I've missed.
When asked what she would like me to cook for her she chose Lasagne, a dish I have never made before but feel confident enough about the fundamentals of to give me a good chance of blowing her socks off, or indeed any part of her clothing...
A light italian salad - plenty of black olives and balsamic dressing, some exotic, doughy tear-and-share bread, a deep, fruity red wine, and some kind of amazing mouth-watering dessert (TBA) should complete the effect. 
By solid copper, # 29. May 2008, 14:05:03
I still mean to post lots of photos and a wee report - I'll try get to that over the weekend so you can judge for yourself.
By GrantTLC, # 29. May 2008, 14:47:44
Are you going to make the lasagne sheets from scratch? I wouldn't have a clue how, so I use the premade ones and boil them first before I lay them in a tray, but the corners always go hard
By galadriel, # 2. June 2008, 09:29:01