The Dateable Dork

Say, for instance, that I happened to find myself sitting across from a certain ex at a deliciously scrumptious tapas restaurant last night.

Say that we happened to be surrounded by glasses of absolutely fucking fantastic wine, a mind-blowingly tasty meal, and dessert that could make you swear off all other foods for all eternity.

Say that this certain ex got all dressed up to have dinner with me, including the gel in his hair and the whole nine yards.

Now, my dears, I’m trying very hard to imagine what I might be thinking in this completely hypothetical situation, and I *think* I might have concluded that although the man sitting across from me was smokin’ hot when we had dated last year, he had miraculously got EVEN HOTTER and is now the equivalent of a Greek god for whom I would sacrifice myself for the good of all humanity.  I might be thinking that the mere existence of such a fucking GORGEOUS man would single-handedly prove the existence of a divine power.  I might be thinking that as I stare into those beautiful light brown eyes, my entire world crumbles and my body is transformed into a helpless pile of mush for him to lather all over his insanely manly and instantaneous-orgasm-inducing body.

That’s what I *would* be thinking, *if* this situation had actually occurred, which of course it most certainly did not.

And you know what else would have happened if this completely hypothetical situation had actually occurred?  I would have fought my way through the wine-induced smokin’-hot-man haze, given him a friendly hug goodnight, come home to my apartment by myself, and gone to sleep.

And I would have successfully executed a totally platonic (cough) and completely pleasant dinner with an ex.

But of course this situation is completely hypothetical, because I would NEVER do something like this.  Never.

Cough, cough.

Oh, excuse me, I had a little something in my throat for a minute there.