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: A Season of Mists

ZOMG

WAAAAAHHHHH. I've got a coffee-date on Thursday. WAAAAHHHHH. (In my head, I'm running in circles, mildly panicked. Every now and then I pause my running to lean on my knees and pant, catching my breath before I resume the circular progression.)

This is going to be interesting. We've traded 6-7 messages (each) and-- okay, yeah, I'm a little scared. That's like saying the Titanic was taking on a little water. *gulp* I haven't done this (a date) in a few years. And I have no idea what to say or do. Well, that's not entirely true at all, but it feels that way. Always does.

I have this sneaky suspicion that she's a lot like me in a few ways. From the messages thus far, --okay, crap. This place is locatable from how she found me. (If she notices the right words and does the right search, etc.) Crap, crap, crap. Ummm... This isn't me. I was never here. You didn't see me. Ummm... *waves hand in Jedi fashion* This isn't the website you're looking for.

I always forget how connected everything is. (And I didn't really hide myself very well when I joined that dating site. Whoops!) Errr... Let's hope she tells me if she finds this place. (Please?) Yeah, I've got nothing else.

P.S. Okay, yeah, now I'm scared.

Full post as published by A Season of Mists on June 27, 2010 (boomark / email).