Date

I mentioned before that I put myself on match.com, much to the delight of my one friend at law school (and perhaps a handful of others who are chortling out there unbeknownst to me). The delight is not so much "now you're really putting yourself out there and you might find true love!" as much as "oooh, now we get to go online and pick guys for you to wink at and hear gruesome dating tales!"

So I went on my first official match.com date last night, and the official tale? Eh. I was really not in the mood for love last night, and it showed: I went to meet the guy after a long day of classes and meetings, my hair was a mess and shoved on top of my head, I was carrying my backpack, I had no make-up on, and I had (and still do have) a ginormous zit on my nose. And when I say ginormous, I am not kidding. I can see it out of the corner of my eye when I'm looking straight ahead. It is in its own zip code -- perhaps even its own time zone. It is large and round and red, and it is taking its own sweet time to decide the course of things: "Hm. Shall I become a large, round, disgusting whitehead that will need to be popped, thus creating a crater of ooze in hk's face? Or shall I simply hang out here, round and large and red and slowly -- oh SO slowly -- deflate over the period of a few weeks? Doop dee doo... the choices! So hard to decide!"

I hate you, pimple on my nose. I feel like a rhino.

And so, feeling thusly, I decided last night to go the "Oh, fuck it, there's a zit the size of Mother Russia smack in the middle of my face and nothing I do can hide it so I'm not going to even TRY, okay, Mother Russia Zitsky? You WIN"route.

So. We met for coffee (except we both drank decaf drinks since we have insomnia issues). He was nice, with no overt signs of serial-killer-ness. It was awkward in that first date kind of way. He emailed me afterwards. Maybe we'll see each other again. Or maybe not.

Like I said. Eh.