Action in the bullpen

My friend complained to me this weekend that, while she learned a lot about my feelings toward the food at Oleana from my last blog post, she learned nothing about my feelings for Theradate. I'm a bit mystified by his eccentricity -- he's the most gregarious person I've ever dated, he threatened to wear a pink tutu to Oleana, and he told me that a day when he eats only three pints of ice cream is a light day for him -- but I also like him. So much so that I invited him to my 1/3 of a century birthday party last night (he couldn't come).

But I'm busy, and then he's busy, and then I'm busy, and then he's going away for five days, so I'm not going to see him again for two weeks. I'm notoriously bad at keeping action in my bullpen, but this lull between dates is a reminder that, even though Theradate texts me every day and sent me an essay he wrote (then asked for some of my writing in return even though I told him I don't write -- he sure called that bluff!) and added me as a friend on Facebook and it kinda feels like we know each other, we don't. So there's really no earthly reason why I should sit and twiddle my thumbs and send goofy texts to Theradate for the next two weeks when I've got eligible men waiting around for me to contact them on OkCupid.

So I'll be keeping busy, going on dates and volunteering for political candidates and obsessively checking the 538 blog, and before I know it Theradate will be back. And then maybe we'll go see a documentary about climate change, if he can handle it. (He gets very upset about climate change. But he thinks he might be able to handle it if I hold his hand and lie to him that everything will be okay.)