A Doctah!

I've got a date tonight with Bobby, the dude Jack and Diane know from the gym. Turns out he's a doctor. If my mother cared about such things, I'd be so tempted to call her and say, "... a doctah! ... a doctah! I've got a date with a doctah!" But in reality, my mom just wants me to be happy and doesn't give a shit if the person I date is butcher, baker or candlestick maker.

But I have a date at eight. (I love rhymes.) I took a gamble making plans on a weeknight as it's hard to get out of work by that time. I had a meeting scheduled yesterday for 6:00 p.m. tonight, fingers crossed I can leave in time. I wonder if I should announce in my meeting, "I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date, with a doctah!"

Nah, I won't say that, at least not out loud. In all honesty, I just hope I have enough time to apply the yellow based under eye concealer I have stowed in my bag. And I hope I'm not so nervous or tired I lose my personality. Lastly, I hope my too-tight pants don't bust open mid-convo. -- I paired an oversized shirt with skinny jeans that are about 1/2 size too small after the gallon of ice cream I consumed this weekend while watching turn of the century teen angst dramedies. (Feel free to judge.) My life already resembles that of Bridget Jones too closely, I don't need to split my pants while on a date.

But ultimately, I hope I have fun. I'm not into dating right now, probably because I'm scared. Scared of rejection, scared of growing old alone, scared of being vulnerable and opening up to someone, scared of tea party Republicans and ladybugs, though I'm not sure those last two apply here.

[Giant sigh] I'm nervous and babbling and have to start my day. Wish me luck with the doctah.