the alley rule
I have a lot of rules.
I don’t date military guys. I don’t date clarinet players. I only date guys between the ages of 26 and 38. Et Cetera, Ad Infinitum.
So I think I’m going to implement a new rule:
If I don’t want to take a guy into an alley and make out with him by the time our second date is winding down, no third date.
(This does not mean there will be alley makeouts, just that I would want there to be. And I’m not sure I’ve ever made out in an alley before, even though I did make out with Tal on 83rd street once for, like, an hour.)
That’s the new rule.
I was seriously busy. I think I was taking a shower, then I called my mom. And maybe I needed to dry my hair. And my internet connection went all spazzy.
But Christophe sent me a message:
“hey what's going on?
I'm sorry if it was the kiss.
I thought it would have been nice to do.”
I didn’t ignore him. . . on purpose. But I ignored him.