am i wrong for still loving the way you make me feel?

I had my first official date thing this past weekend. I totally get it now. The whole dating thing? I get it. I definitely see how it can get old when you feel like you have to do it to avoid any impending loneliness or whatever it is that makes people feel like they have to keep putting themselves out there over and over again. But for now, I'm like, "wow okay cool." Anyway, this guy was great and all of my anxieties ended up being over nothing because there was never a moment of silence that felt terribly awkward. That was my biggest fear. Not being able to relate to this handsome lawyer with nice ties. That, and not knowing which fork to use. Work from the outside in, right? So yeah, it was a lovely dinner. And he wore dress socks because evidently he understands the importance of not wearing tube socks with nice shoes. Love it. Not that it should matter. But it so does. I'm really not this shallow, but I enjoy observing. And sometimes those observations are about other people's clothing choices. I can't help that.

So my date got me thinking about how the smallest things made me look at him in a much more favorable light than I tend to look at men when I first meet them. And its all because he was polite and sweet. A total fucking gentleman. And I came home, called all of my friends freaking out because he pulled out my chair and opened doors for me. He wasn't rude to our waiter, which by the way, is a deal breaker for me. And it all just blew me away. It shouldn't, you know? Like, these things should be something that people do for one another. I'm not trying to imply that only men should do these things for women. I have held about a million doors open and men appreciate it just as much. Its really the simple things, like reaching over and unlocking the driver's door for them instead of making them stand out in the cold for three seconds longer while you sit idly in the passenger side checking your reflection. Common decency shouldn't be such a big deal at the end of the day is all that I'm saying.

In other news, someone stole my favorite hoodie and I hope they die in their sleep. It was actually, my oldest and favorite article of clothing, period. I slept in it. I wandered my apartment in it when the heat was off in the middle of December just to prove a point to my roommates who only respond to passive-aggression. I went to the bar, at some point went to the bathroom and someone swooped down on it either because they were cold or because they mistook it for something of value. Or okay fine, maybe they thought it was theirs because it was a non-descript, navy blue hoodie that could have been just about anyone's. I'm totally bummed. To make myself feel better, I went out and bought another which ultimately ended up making me feel worse because it is not the same. Unlike hamsters, broken in clothing can not be replaced.

I'm being judged for my undying love for old Michael Jackson. That's fucked up.