Upon hearing the ring of the front door bell: He’s picking me up! He’s picking me up!
Upon discovering said date was wearing sneakers: Sneakers? Seriously? After I’ve gone through all the trouble of raiding my closet, my mother’s closet and finally the spare closet in the spare bedroom where she keeps her summer clothes to put together an appropriately sexy-yet-sophisticated salsa outfit?
Upon the first display of my date’s parallel parking skills: Not bad.
Upon ordering sushi and watching helplessly as my date dumped the wasabi into our joint dish of soy sauce: Aghh! He’s ruined it! I hate wasabi! Would it kill him to ask first?
Upon the second display of my date’s parallel parking skills: Wow. This almost makes up for the wasabi incident.
Upon heading to Café Sphinx in Old City for a cup of coffee before our salsa lesson at Brasil’s and discussing our students: This guy cracks me up. He may be wearing sneakers but I’m actually having fun.
Upon inviting said date up “for a quick drink” after our lesson, only to discover that my dad was not only still awake but entertaining our neighbors from across the street: Well now, this is embarrassing.
Upon ferrying my date “up to the roof deck” for some pseudo-privacy: F*ck its cold! I really must move out of my parents’ house one of these days.
Upon confessing to that my “cute outfit” was actually comprised almost entirely of my mother’s clothes: I can’t move out. What will I wear?
Upon realizing it’s already 6:50am: SH*T! I need to be on the road in ten minutes and in Baltimore by 9:15.
Sorry folks. More to come.