Don’t think I can write anything better than I wrote last year for him.
Her: Logan! You’re too old to date so much.
Me: (sighing) Tell me about it.
It rained all weekend. Go out late Friday. Usual twirl.
Went to a BBQ Saturday with a friend from church and she and I spend the day lounging on Roosevelt Island. Lived here my whole life and have never been – the tram was out so I’ve still never been on that. See a purple dog and get drenched on the way back. Later that night, see HEI and her friends for drinks.
I decide to get off that online dating website cause: (a) don’t have the time for it, (b) feel bad not responding to people, and (c) am tired of the disappointing and the being disappointed. So I go and delete all the emails I’ve gotten in the past month. But one from a pretty cake decorator stands out so I write:
My number’s 917.555.4810. Why don’t you text me as if we met last night so that we can say, quite honestly, that we met last night, I emailed you and then we texted back and forth for a bit. Because that’s what young singltons do in the big city, I think.
She does and we do all weekend. End up grabbing coffee on Sunday.
Here’s the thing: vegetarian. Not even pescatarian – full-on vegetarian. I oftentimes wonder if I’m part of some cosmic joke. But she has an easy laugh and a Georgia accent so we’ll see.
Not looking forward to work – I haven’t told most of you this but all my employees quit on me three weeks ago. Now one of them wants to come back.
After church on Sunday, Christianne and I walk home. We’re both waiting for our blue sky to come back and stay.
Music: like seein’ you in my neighborhood I like the way you dress