Forcing His Hand

There are so many newsworthy topics to deal with today. You've heard the news. The Governor of NJ resigned. Julia Child died. John Kerry and Dumbass are both in Oregon today. So which news story shall I address? Oh, I know...

I was asked out on a date. Actually, I was told that I am going on a date. Not that I mind. Being told, "you are going out with me," is better than being told, "if you died in your apartment nobody would find you for a few days because you are alone and single". (I was actually told that a couple weeks ago. By a Yum Yum Brother, no less).

Last week, I was hanging out at Pony's house. He was burning CDs for me and showing me his dance moves. As he started doing shoulder rolls for me, I looked over at him and realized I felt a vaguely familiar twitch in my heart. Wait a second. I think I might like him. I think I might like him "in that way".

Trying not to think about it, I finished my beer and left. The next day I e-mailed him and told him he was cute when he danced.

"Cute? Not hot?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "It was hot when you drove your red truck fast, it was sexy when you put on your glasses, and it was cute when you danced." Fearing that I was guilty of showing too many cards in my hand, I informed him I was not soliciting comments on my own behavior and that he should refrain from commenting.

"You are not getting off that easily," Pony wrote. "It was cute when you put your head on my shoulder. It was sexy when you sang harmony to the music, and it was hot when you drove fast to keep up with me in spite of the cop next to you on the road."

It's just flirtation. It doesn't mean anything. I don't cook for anybody.

Those are three statements I've made lately, and they are turning out to be false.

It is hard to refrain from blogging about significant happenings in my life. This should come as no surprise to readers of the Toaster Oven. But I want do do things right this time. I don't want to give "too much information". I don't want to make a bigger deal out of things than I should. I don't want to show my cards.

THP is teaching me to play cribbage. Almost every night we sit outside on our patio (The Vortex) and play. I show him my cards, and he helps me play my hand for maximum points. I noticed last time we played that I am getting better, and I don't have to show my cards as often. I've found that there is a certain excitement in waiting for the right moment to reveal my hand.

To kiss a boy and wait three days to talk about it is a new thing for me. Juju will probably wonder why I didn't call her and tell her about this one! But I've been trying to learn how to hold my cards close and keep things to myself. I've done pretty well thus far.

Tuesday night at CC Slaughters, I slipped Pony a note under the table. We were trying to get rid of a certain local bedhopper who was hitting on us, so I wrote, "Pony, I think I like you 'that way', so we need to get rid of Whorehey NOW." And we did. And the next thing you know, I was told, "You are going on a date with me".

I've only known Pony a couple months. He's not usually so decisive. He's not usually so forward. He's not one to show his cards too soon. And, yet, this time he surprised me. And it touched my heart. And I said yes.

I was happy to learn that watching Pirates of The Caribbean with him last night as he coughed and sniffled was not our date. I still have that to look forward to. You'll forgive me if hold my cards close for a while afterwards, won't you?