dating can be murder

The second date (with a man I've only met once, on our first date). I'm in his house, haven't told anyone where I'm going, and I'm nervous. He says:
"I bet this is the first time you've been on a date with a professional killer."

Memorable. Turned out he wasn't even joking, as he's in some elite part of the defense forces. Then we had camomile tea and a pleasant chat.

the accidental Valentine

After an ongoing email discussion with a man we finally managed to find a time to meet for coffee. He had noticed me in the Little Shop of Harmony. I hadn't noticed him and didn't even know what he looked like but doubtfully agreed to this coffee date. It took some emailing back and forth for over a week before we managed to make time in our busy schedules.

The day we were to meet, I realised, too late, that it was Valentine's Day. Oh the irony. It's been ages since I was on a date. It's been ages since I feigned any interest in Valentine's Day as I never liked the concept anyway.

Then I realised that the piece of paper that I had hastily scrawled his phone number on was a pink little romantic note. I hate pink romantic stuff of the girlie kind.

I pictured a balding, fat little man who couldn't keep up his end of a conversation. I found a tall, athletic man who was not only a physiotherapist but a reservist in the army and who could discuss academic subjects as well as personal and difficult ones (after the initial talk about getting dodgy petrol from a local petrol station). He didn't only share my interest in volleyball but also had exciting travel stories to tell.

In fact, he seemed a bit too good to be true. I felt suspicious. What if he was making half of his stories up? Who runs endurance classes in the army and gets job offers in Canada?

But I had my Valentine's Day date anyway, in one of my favourite cafés. Quite by accident.

study war no more

Went to the Island again. The road was terrible to drive, bumpy and icy. Every Islander seemed to be gathered at the community hall for the annual Elk Dinner Dance (elks not welcome, except as the main course).

Xena the Warrior Princess was the exception. She has settled down in her cute little cottage with her man (an insurance salesman), two energetic babies that she fusses a bit over, and a decorative white cat. It would seem like an anti-climax to her warrior life but I suspect this is the life towards which she was fighting all along. A life she could not have had without that fight.

We devour icecream and fudge and watch tv. The sweet rest after a life of war.

report from Neighbourhood Watch

Saw my reclusive neighbour, the Pizza King, as he walked from his front door to his garage. It was ten degrees below freezing and all he wore was: a football shirt, in the local team's colours but with his own first name on the back, and tight shorts with gym shoes. Let's just say he is not the type that looks hot in tight shorts below his pizza belly. Sorry for staring, neighbour.

Spent my day off worrying about money, reading The Observer in the library and feeling lonely while getting a hamburger to go. But I will exit this day on a high note: watching Hawaii Five-0.