Bingo

The lawyer I went on a date with (whom I refer to as L) sent me a text around 6:45 on Tuesday to ask if I could join him for dinner.

Because I am actually 75 years old, I had already showered and was in bed when I received the text. But I figured it could be fun and he agreed to watch the debate with me. I told him I would bring bingo cards for the debate. He said he would get pizza.

I should note here that food is still an awkward topic with dates. P knows about my surgery, L does not. Still, I have not been able to say, “Hey, why don’t you order one entree, I will eat three or four bites, and you can have the rest?” and the sort of places I have been have not been the type where sides or apps could make a meal. I felt shitty when the ginormous pizza arrived — along with an order of fries and a broccoli loaf(?) — and I could eat two and a half pieces of the ginormous pizza (like 3″ x 3″ slices). I guess I should have reminded him that on our first date I managed half of a rainbow roll. My tummy just can’t handle a lot anymore.

Anyway, we watched the debate and ate. The debate was not that exciting, but the bingo helped. I won.

It was fun.

I’m not sure about L. L is a nice man. Courteous. Smart. He gives a good shoulder massage. I just don’t know if we really click.

Maybe it is because he is from Miami and Florida is a completely different breed of South than what I’m familiar with. Maybe it is because he is also a Pisces. Maybe it is because he makes unrequested recommendations about what I should do in my classes after asking me about my job. Maybe it is because he cares about money and status and I was socialized to not place as much priority on those things.

I figure it is still good to date around, even if I am twitterpated.

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