A couple of weeks ago, I hosted a thang for the end of the semester. The Young Man was going to come and, to thank me for my proofreading help, he was going to buy me a drink. Except, unfortunately, he couldn’t make it to the thang, but offered a raincheck. All well and good, but he is leaving town for a few months, and with one thing or another, it is very likely this will all be put on hold for a few months.
I’m of two minds about this. Certainly, The Young Man is startlingly hot, and I get all weak in the knees and crap; an outing like this may be the start of something. Or, it may not be, and then it will be just another opportunity to make some sort of an ass of myself. And that is something I don’t need.
If this little plot should come to fruition, and we do meet for this drink, then what? It very likely doesn’t mean anything; it also doesn’t not mean anything, because it was mostly his idea. If he had wanted to ditch this plan at any time, he could have. I even gave him an escape hatch, so maybe I’ll be blown off yet.
Reading the previous paragraph, I suspect myself of being a 100 percent, 24 karat saboteur (or saboteuse, if you want to get all gender agreement about it). God forbid that this could actually be a date-like incident, filled with date-like activities, which would be so out of line with my standard world view. I might enjoy myself or something.
Although I shouldn’t be so hasty – he leaves this weekend, and there is still plenty of time for me to be disappointed.