Bachelor #2 came over for brunch this morning. I made a French bistro classic–frisee lettuce with bacon and poached eggs, and some homemade bicuits and plum jam for local Coco flavor. He put the jam in his tea. Perhaps it’s a Belgian thing? He then asked to see my studio, and purchased one of my quadrants. Just like that. Are you sure? Yes, get it framed. These are the kinds of bachelors that I like. Actually, we had a great time at brunch, and my shell of impenetrability may be cracking under the strain of his charm, intelligence and cuteness. I can’t imagine meeting his mom and dad, though. My palms start sweating thinking about it.
And then the phone rang. Bachelor #5 was waiting for me at the coffee house. Kiss kiss, bye bye Bachelor #2, it’s been great and I’ll call you after I get the piece framed. Bachelor #5 is cuteness and likeability in a compact 5’7″ frame. We chatted and chatted and chatted and chatted and licked each other up and down with our eyes. There’s chemistry there, cats and kittens, chemistry and eletricity, and a real ease of communication, and a warm tingly feeling. Kissing him goodbye was all about not sucking him down in one gulp, like fighting the tractor beam on 1/4 impulse power.
After watching The Sopranos with BC and Pyro-ness, I made my way back home for a chat with Bachelor #4. He’s brilliant. Really, an original and articulate thinker, sensitive, with a keen sense of observation. I am in total awe of him and how he organizes experience in verbal elegance, with no pretension or bite. I can’t seem to pronounce his name, though, and stumbled over it like a bumpkin, even though I practiced all day. I hope this doesn’t mean more than a lack of cultural sensitivity and a subconscious manifestation of my insecurity around his brilliance.
Tomorrow evening it’s dinner with Bachelor #6, a daring appointment in that we haven’t met in person yet, and I prefer to slowly ease my way into activities that I can’t easily escape from. But even if he’s no more than a pretty face, he’s got a pretty pretty face. And he’s in his 20’s. I’ve never dated a 20-something. Even in my 20’s. Not that I’m going to date him, mind you, but still–20’s. Did your spine just tingle like mine did?