It's 3am. My HOT, HOT Yoga Guy just left and...I'm smitten, you guys. I'm in trouble. I am one smitten kitten.
We had such a good night--late dinner (roast chicken was a hit, per usual), followed by excellent conversation, followed by crazy, passionate making out for HOURS. It was so easy. It felt so right. It was so freakin' GOOD.
He was much more relaxed than he had been on our second date, and very, very kind and generous. And that was pretty much it, folks--I was a goner. I mean, stick a fork in me--I'm done. My powers of resistance are fading fast. This man who is nothing I had imagined for myself--this handsome, creative, soul--has appeared, and as tempted as I am to fight it, I'm not going to put up my defenses...'cause I think it's time to go in headfirst. These may be famous last words, but who cares? What do I have to lose?
In the words of Rodgers and Hart, I am seriously bewitched, bothered, and bewildered.
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