Lessons From the Kissing Booth

I love all of you who want to be kissing booths for Halloween. Two thumbs up.

Last night I was kidnapped by my coworkers for the seventh week in a row. This time, we found ourselves doing trivia at the Liquid Lounge. We managed alright, all things considered.

Of all the many fabulous people I've met and amazing emails I've gotten from the nearly-two-years of this website, nothing has astonished me more than the recent interest in my love life. There have lately been more emails that I would have believed about it, and I am honestly just floored by the idea that a whole bunch of folks are concerned about any such thing. The volume has been enough that I decided it needed adressing.

The first kind of email tends to be from people who are concerned that my recent melancholy is male-related, and to that I say not to worry. I am a much sadder girl here than I am anywhere else, and honestly I just haven't had a whole lot of free time lately to be sad about the boys. Really. Besides, 2005 has provided me with more than my fair share of attention. I'm doing fine, aside from the fact that my head may soon become too large to fit through most doors.

The second kind comes from people who are upset that I don't share more about that particular aspect of my life. To which I say several things. First of all, believe it or not, there are some things that I choose not to share with the internet. Yeah, I find it hard to believe too. Secondly, I am not dategirl. While my dating experiences are varied and entertaining, they're not really interesting. And although being interesting is certainly never a standard that I have held this website to, in this case, that's what I'm going for.
But honestly, it's all patently untrue. I do so tell you about my love life. I told you about how things went sour with the dancer, how the drummer showed up at 2 am after I hadn't seen him for months. I've told you about reconnecting with my high school crush, and how I'm sometimes still reeling over the boy with the crooked smile. I tell you when my dates fall through. I even tell you when I'm embarassing myself in front of someone cute (albeit sometimes late). It's all there if you speak the language.

Trust me, when I meet someone who sends me poloroids from Mars, I'll let you know. In the meantime, everything is generally just fine.