Dream Date

dreaming of a dream date

Me too, Cornela. Me too.

Saw this in the dressing room at Barney’s Co-op in Georgetown. The dress didn’t work. Way too short. But I loved the silohouettes with captions. This one, of course, spoke to me.

My last date wasn’t exactly a typical dream date. But it was pretty darn fun. Easy. We talked and drank beer. I told him about the gazing parties. So we tried it. I giggled like a school girl at first. But then I was quiet and so was he and we just looked at eachother. Then my stomach flipped a little and I felt a knot in my throat. The eye lock became intense. Too much. I got the feeling he was seeing right through me, that perhaps I was revealing something about myelf that I didn’t want him to know yet. It also felt like we connected in a different way than I normally do on dates. In a good way. But in an intense way. So I laughed because that’s what I do when I’m generally uncomfortable, and confessed to him that I couldn’t gaze any longer. I think I made it a minute. Probably 30 seconds. Hmph.

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