Hm.

Or maybe: oops.

Or maybe: d'oh!

I went to my friend's birthday bash at a bar last night with a mutual friend, Squashman. Squashman's the guy I went to lunch with last month, a very nice KA guy a little older than me.

So I got a little tipsy, and on the way back home started weaving back and forth on the sidewalk. So Squashman took my arm. And then we decided to walk out to the park to see the moon. But it wasn't visible from the park, so Squashman decided we should go to the river to see it. But then it was fucking freezing, so we stopped to warm up in a hotel lobby. And then we had a long conversation about family and KA life. And then on the way back home, he put his arm around me, and I did the same. And nothing happened, but I feel pretty shitty about it anyway, because I don't feel that way about Squashman. I like Not-Gay Boyfriend. So it has potential to be hugely awkward. Let's hope (fervently) that it doesn't.

And let's keep the alcohol consumption to a very, very low level. Like, one pint. 'Cause it was the second half of the second pint that did me in.

Stupid, stupid hk.

But also industrious hk: spent 8 hours in the library yesterday, and another 8 hours there today doing research for a prof. V. good.

And also social hk: before the drinking last night, Stave and Def picked me up and drove over to Mrs. Stave's sister's place across the river, where Mrs. Stave's sister and brother-in-law were waiting. We had dinner (me and two couples -- as it ever was, and ever shall be?) at a Thai place and afterwards went to Mrs. Stave's sister's place, where I met Zoe Silverman, the smartest cat alive. I don't know why, but I was delighted by the cat's name: Zoe Silverman. All pets should have first and last names! It gave Zoe Silverman an air of mystery, like she had a whole past that her current owners don't know about. (Which she does, being a stray.)