Playing With Fire

29 08 2011

So, I’ve been updating my and profiles and putting a little more effort into trying to find a date lately, and I have been having some fun in the past few days exchanging emails with a spicy Italian sausage. He is probably the exact picture of the man my friends and therapist have been trying to distance from me, and, of course, I’m very interested in meeting him.

First of all, my friends would ask me what I am doing with him since he is “not tall enough to ride the ride.”  He is only 5′-8″ and this roller coaster is 5′-10″.

Second, he’s Italian, and my friends all know what a complete sucker I am for an Italian man.  I don’t know if you recall how clouded my judgment was the last time I ventured out to meet an Italian. Ever since my South American STB-ex left me, my friends have been trying to keep me away from ALL Latin men of all shapes, sizes, and countries of origin. Any time they see me wondering mindlessly in the direction of a dark-haired, dark-eyed man with an accent, they step in and offer a diversion.

“Oh, my god! LOOK at that woman’s VPL! Doesn’t she look in the mirror before she goes out?”

I’m easily distracted.

Anyway, in the pictures he sent, he has nice, full lips and a hot, muscular body, (more on this in a moment) and in his emails he sounds like a total romantic, loves to hold hands, snuggle, kiss…code words for horny little devil.


I should probably be running in the opposite direction, but I’m not.  I’m like a moth to a flame. I’m supposed to meet him this afternoon.

I’m a little nervous.  First of all, he is very, very fit.  We’ve exchanged pictures, so he’s seen how chubby I am, but I’m nervous anyway.  In his pictures he looks like he’s almost as ripped as Thor, but he says he judges people by their insides not their outsides.

The other thing that makes me nervous is that he’s a NYC Italian, not an Italy Italian.  All of my Italian friends are Italy Italians. You know, Italians who have actually lived in Italy, speak proper Italian, and cook Italians dishes that are not smothered in “gravy” and cheese.  I’m not really sure what to expect from this NYC Italian.  Will he be like those loud-mouthed, drunken fools on “Jersey Shore” or “The Real Housewives of New Jersey“?  I realize those are Jersey Italians, and I’m sure he will tell me that there is a distinct difference between NYC Italians and Jersey Italians. For now though, I don’t know what these differences might be and I’m a little scared to find out.

I’ve also been wondering if he does the whole “GTL” thing like the guys on “Jersey Shore.” You know, “gym, tanning, laundry.”  Judging from his body, he definitely is doing the G part.  I just hope he’s not out in the clubs every night doing the fist pump.

I’m going to try to not go into my date with too many expectations or preconceptions, and just see how it goes. That’s really all a girl can do, right?

Besides, excitement, a little morbid curiosity about the NYC Italian thing, and the fact that after this date I will be at twenty percent of my goal are driving me like a moth to this flame and this time I won’t be diverted.




4 responses

29 08 2011

Uffdah! Waiting to hear how the date goes! Fire and water are a human’s most dangerous and also most necessary things. It’s how one contains the fire that is the answer! Enjoy your day.

29 08 2011

I will certainly keep you posted. 🙂

11 09 2011

I shudder at the Freudian implications of referring to him as “sausage” before you even meet him…

11 09 2011

You’re right. He turned out to be a real “sausage.”

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