Frogs & More Frogs

When I finally heard back from the Brazilian, my heart leapt. He told me that he still likes me, and that he wants to see me again. My first instinct was to write back immediately and say, “Yes!! When?” But I restrained myself, and upon reflection decided that there are about a million warning signs that he would make a terrible boyfriend, and I needed to cut him loose. So I did, and then I texted him to ask if I could pick up my earrings. Guess what – no reply! Something tells me he never bought me a bottle of grappa, either.

Then I went out with someone else, a guy my friend had a massive crush on two years ago. He asked me out and I said no, but he persisted, and I finally agreed, with the caveat that it was as friends. For a brief moment I wondered if I might like him, especially since my friend thought he was such a great catch. But I think he's just not the one for me. I am turned off by so many things, ranging from Seinfeld-like nitpicky details like I don't like his shoes to major red flags like he lied to my friend when he broke up with her. Really, the best thing about him is that he likes me. But that's just not enough.

Which leaves me back at Square 1: flirting with my cute, too-young co-worker, Babe in the Woods, who will probably be ready for a committed relationship in ten years or so, who may or may not have a sneaker fetish and does have a very cheesy tattoo about love on his bicep (mental note for a future flirtatious conversation topic: ask about it next time I can see it peeking out of his sleeve). Who knows, maybe this will be the week when I finally work up the courage to ask him to go with me to the Harpoon brewery for a second round of growlers. Or maybe I'll go invest in some snazzy sneakers in the hopes that they'll catch his eye.