Word Perv

I know what you’re thinking - she’s going to brave another soccer game with a date?! Never fear dear readers, I won’t let tonight’s date become a repeat of the soccer game I attended with Bachelor #6. Oh no friends, I won’t do that again. There will be no throwing up, no drunken confessions, no hung-over moments the next morning, no awkward feelings. I’ll avoid all that as there will be NO DRINKING at tonight’s game (I have a race tomorrow, the Army 10-Mile, so I have to behave myself as we all know running is too important to me to fuck it up with alcohol), and since things didn’t progress so well with Bachelor #6 I’d rather not repeat that whole experience. You know, the wow-you-don’t-like-me-enough-to-call-me-but-you-sure-as-hell-wanna-keep-sleeping-with-me experience. Let’s face it, that’s just not fun and it’s not what I want. Because while I might not (most certainly do not!) want to jump head first into a full-blown, serious, exclusive relationship, I would like to be dating someone. And by dating I mean he calls me and I call him and we mutually make plans to hang out and spend time together and see how it progresses. Yeah, that’s what I want.

So I’ve got a date with Bachelor #7 tonight and we’ll be attending a DC United game, sitting in the Barra Brava section, the best group of obnoxious, rowdy, completely uncontained soccer fans there ever could be. And I’m really looking forward to the game and to seeing him. While emailing this week we got on the subject of races and training (he’s a triathlete) and he sent me the Excel spreadsheet he uses to track his races. He may as well have been whispering dirty things in my ear because suddenly I was all hot and bothered. Could a man out there take his training and racing as seriously as me? Oh my, I think I’m swooning…

Oh, and I totally owe Jen for this date, because she introduced us. And he’s super cute.