I am so bloody tired. Why? Because Boston and I have no self-restraint and, quite possibly, no self-preservation skills either. He called me last night before I went to bed. Correction: before I thought I was going to bed. We talked for five hours. That's so high school. I've often wondered how people could talk for that long. I mean what could you possibly say that would justify 300 minutes of talk time? Nothing. And that's what it was, much ado about nothing. OK, that Shakespearan reference doesn't actually apply but my point, and I do have one, is that we can talk about anything and nothing. One minute we were discussing how the internet is curtailing film distribution profits, the next why In&Out Burger rocks but has service slow enough to make their name ironic.
My friend suggested giving Boston another alias, "HBG" for Hot Boston Guy but I thought that might be confusing for all parties involved. This could end very badly. Not only have both of us thrown caution to the wind, we've given it a serious beating before doing so. And when I reminded him of this, his response was, "I'm not even at my optimum performance level (because he's sick). Can you imagine what will happen when I'm 'on'? At least YOU have something to look forward to." He went on to clarify this by telling me that while I was in the "what you see is what you get" mode, the truly magnetic aspect of his persona, if you will (or won't, see if I care), was yet to be fully realized by the love pariah.
My girlfriend was trepidatious, "Don't go from 0 to 60 with Mr. LA, whomever he is, try and hold back a little," she pleaded. I bristled. Sure thing. Let me just give myself a personality transplant overnight. But this could end badly, did I mention that? It's possible that he could be really cheap which is a huge turn-off or rude to strangers which is another deal-breaker even though I called a woman a whore once for taking the last turkey and brie sandwich at Hale and Hearty. What? I said it under my breath and her super-sonar hearing picked it up. And, yeah, it was way over the top but it was one of those, "Did I say that out loud?" moments. My girlfriend was horrified, "Get a grip, it's a sandwich," she reminded me. But I can't handle this type of behavior in others... at all. There's basically a whole host of problems that could manifest themselves when we meet in person. The height thing for instance. He's 5'8", 2 out of 3 aint't bad but why do we always have to forego the tall in exchange of the dark and handsome? And let's not forget the most important obstacle in this budding romance, I'm crazy.
