49.1

Forty-nine and I went on a date the night after we met, and it was absolutely lovely.  He is from Boston, is 37 (As much as I like the younger guys, it is really refreshing when a date gets my MacGyver references.), has lived here for 6 years, is an electrical engineer, has the perfect sense of humor and an armful of tattoos, does rally car racing, and is moving to LA in two weeks for a new job.  Forty-nine had dinner plans that evening, so we just met for drinks beforehand and talked so much that he was late meeting his friends.  One of our topics of conversation was making a list of things he needs to do and see before he leaves the city, and I insisted that he has to go watch the roller skaters in the park on a Sunday.

When we left the bar he gave me a hug, and I told him that I had a lot of fun.  His response was, "Good, I did, too.  Want to do this again, let's say Sunday to watch the roller skaters?"  I looked down and gave my crutches and walking boot a disgusted look and had to tell him, "Since I'm having surgery on Friday, I sadly don't think I'm going to be up for anything on Sunday."  Without missing a beat he replied, "Okay, then we'll go next Sunday."  I smiled and said, "Next Sunday it is."

Forty-nine and I have texted back and forth pretty consistently about nothing in particular or too serious.  I love his sense of humor, and I'm excited to see him again!  I could say that it totally stinks that he's moving, but part of me wonders if I would be as interested in him if he were staying.  I'll be the first to admit that the way my brain and emotions work are idiotic.  Regardless, I'm having a fantastic time for now!