I haven't been diligent about keeping you up to date on the dating situation, so I will now attempt to rectify this.

I had a date with the guy I met a couple of weeks ago. The dancing guy. Yeah. I knew in my heart this was his last chance.

Leah and I had been shopping at Target (damn you Target! It is impossible for me to leave there without spending over $50) and I found an awesome Issac Mizrahi (Oh Danielle is going to kill me for misspelling that!) dress for $20. It's sort of denim material, blue with white details. Button up, sleeveless with a belt. Cute, flattering and MINE!

Anyway, I decided to wear this on my date. I'm sure I was overdressed, but it's not everyday that it's 66 in Detroit in early March. I debated about the shoes in my head. You see, I now have 2 dresses that are blue and exactly zero blue shoes that are appropriate for the dresses. So I had to wear black shoes. I picked the best pair I have. My super-tall, chunky, strappy heels. They seriously make me 5 foot 11. Without tooting my horn too much, let me just say that my legs looked fucking awesome! They're kind of long anyway, but in four inch heels, they look well it's 3 am and I can't think of an analogy...you get the picture.

I flat ironed my hair, slapped on some makeup and nearly slid down the stairs to my car.

Because I have impeccable timing, I pulled up to the theatre 5 minutes before we had agreed to meet. I waited in the lobby for about 30 seconds and then there he was.

Ok. First I must speak of the glasses. My friend Joe used to have a really hideous pair of glasses. Several pairs actually. They were too big for his face and just plain unfashionable. The glasses this guy was wearing tonight make Joe's glasses look like Calvin Klein crafted them himself. BIG, Tinted, 70s. He was NOT pulling them off either. Ugh.

Also, IZOD shirt...

Anyway, we purchased tickets to see 50 First Dates and meandered into the theatre. We chitchatted before the commercials and previews started. Let me just stop and say here that I hadn't realized that my dress would present a problem. VERY short when sitting. The small slit in the middle ended literally 3 inches from my crotch and my giant heels made me have to cross my legs very high. Believe it or not, I was taking this all in stride. I just kept my hand over my knee the whole time.

Here's the mysterious part. If some chick had heels on that made her as tall as you, and she was wearing a snappy dress, and her legs were exposed, wouldn't you either (a)make a comment on how nice she looked or (b) be caught at least once staring at her legs? I'm seriously not trying to be vain here...I guess this guy is just not "that way".

So the movie was actually hilarious. Sean Astin is the unsung hero of this piece, as it is refreshing to see him trimmed down from the role of fat Samwise Gamgee.

We exit the theatre talking about how pleasantly surprised we are that the movie was funny. When we get outside, it just happens to be one of my favorite kinds of nights. Blustery, partly cloudy, full moon shining through cloud cover, all with a mysterious feeling in the air. I look up and comment in a rather enthusiastic and captivating manner about the moon. What does he do? Ignores the comment and starts talking about Madison Fucking Heights. Dude. This place sucks. No there are no good restaurants here. Yes I grew up here. Nope. All we have is the Big Boy.

We end up at a Madison Heights institution called The Green Lantern. BEST PIZZA EVER. Everyone's parents used to go on dates there. My parents have a greasy place mat saved from one of their dates. I wasn't so sure that my guy would like this place. First, it's a bar. Bars have smoke. Dude is allergic. Second, the pizza is greasay. I actually dab it with a napkin before I eat it. Dude is health-conscious. But he insists.

We go in and big fucking surprise, it's crowded. We wait a couple of moments and then are seated. I realize that we will never be able to agree on pizza toppings, so I make the tough decision and order chicken fingers. He orders a sub. Inane talking occurs.

It was at this point that I realized it was over. I realized that I wasn't asking him a single thing about himself. It was like an interview. The shit of it is, when I realized that I was doing this, I took no steps to remedy it. I just kept my mouth shut and waited for him to ask me another dumb question.

Also interesting to note. I know he is not a fan of drinking. Perfectly normal thing. But in my increasing irritation with him, I found that I was more and more tempted to "rebel" against his sensibilities. I became more off the cuff, and when I first spotted beer on the back of the menu, an evil smile curled on my face and I had to wrestle with myself about ordering a beer.

So because I am incapable of keeping my feelings out of my body language, I stopped looking at him. I feel really awful about it now, but it was impossible to avoid.

He drove me back to my car at the movie theatre and this time when he announced his kiss, I just turned my cheek so he could give it. I told him to have a good night and got into my car and blasted Clay Aiken, feeling strangely relieved. A decision had been made.

He doesn't know it yet, but that was his last date with me. I believe in my heart that I gave him all the chances allotted to him. The next time he calls, I will tell him that I had fun, but that this isn't working for me, and hopefully, he'll say something short and hang up. Better yet, maybe he got the point with the body language, and won't call. I doubt I will be that lucky.

I do want to thank him for making my official entrance into the dating world a relatively painless one. He was kind, harmless and a good dancer. He proved to me that I am not a hopeless wretch.

This leads me to my other decision. I have resolved to ask PG out. He makes me laugh, which is something that this other guy couldn't do, and that's worth a lot to me apparently...