a part of me hopes he's a psychotic killer or kidnapper or something equally exotic. but i suppose if he turned out to be a nice normal guy i could live with that too. then, on top of still being alive, i'd know it's not so scary to meet someone new all on my own.
still, what the hell am i doing? my mom would have my ass for this.
i'm nervous, but i'd call it more of an anxious anticipation than fret or worry. it's kind of exciting, the seductiveness of danger.
or maybe this is just me making a big deal out of nothing. fuck it. whatever.
he'll read this tomorrow and think i'm a total spaz (if he doesn't already). score.