After I finished my quick blog update last night, I took the time to shower, shave (for the second time that day, which gave me a little bit of a razor burn), and change into clean clothes. (I wanted to mention, by the way, that since I’ve started the Celexa, I’ve lost nine pounds. I don’t think my eating habits have changed, but I have cut back on the drinking by a lot. So I’m back into my old pants.)

And I put some condoms in my back pocket, just in case.

On the drive over, I ran through a huge gamut of emotions.

Excitement: someone I had pined over for who knows how long had finally called me and invited me over.

Ambivalence: She hadn’t called until I had resolved I was over her.

Confusion: Was I over her for real, or not?

Lust: It didn’t really matter whether I loved her anymore; if I had a chance for sex, I was definitely going to take it. As someone who has had sex with exactly one person in my life, I am not interested in passing up opportunities to add diversity to my portfolio.

Curiosity: So why was had she called me? Certainly it wasn’t to find out nitty gritty details about why I had stolen her plant.

I got there, and she opened the door before I knocked, explaining that she didn’t want the neighbors to complain about loud sounds late at night.

I noticed she was no longer wearing the sweats, and that her makeup looked fresh. She smelled good, too.

And then she asked me if she could trust me. I wonder if any person in the history of the world has ever answered “no” to that question. I doubt it, which goes to show that it’s an extremely dumb question, since a person you shouldn’t trust will answer “yes” more readily than someone you should trust.

Anyway, I told her that of course she could trust me.

She asked me if I would promise not to write about our meeting in my blog.

I told her that I was surprised she even remembered that I write a blog. She said that she’s read it a couple times.

I have to say, I really hated the idea of her reading my blog. This blog is where I come to say exactly what’s on my mind, even if there’s egg on my face at the end of the post. I’d prefer to keep my personal communication and my blog communication separate.

So I made a deal with her. I wouldn’t talk about her or about our relationship (whatever the kind of relationship it either is or may become) if she wouldn’t read my blog, so I could have a place where I could say whatever I want (except about her, of course) without worrying about whether I sound like an asshole to her.

I wish I could tell you what we talked about (and / or did), because it was pretty interesting.