moominmuppet

...or if I just think I am because my contacts are so dry. We got to have our first evening out by the neighbor's fire last night. It's still a touch chilly out (this was sometime around midnight, I think), so I was sitting quite close to the chiminea. Lovely, and warm, but I now have hickory-smoked eyes.

Had that date last night; the one I agreed to on a whim last week. It's left me puzzling over my particular brand of pickiness. I think it's pretty much reduceable to "If I don't feel potential for developing a comfortable friendship, I'm not interested, no matter how damn cute you are, or what we've got in common." Absolutely key to that is feeling like the other person is interacting with me, not generic potentially sexually receptive female. I have no interest in being treated like a goddess, or a queen, or any number of lines that were tossed my way last night. I want to be treated like a Sarah. Fundamentally, I don't like lines, unless they're said with a wink and a smile. They feel insulting to my intelligence. Like I'm not supposed to notice that you're trying to smooth-talk your way into my pants? Oy. I prefer straight-forward honesty. At least it offers the opportunity for a clear yes or no, instead of spending the evening fending off the slow schmooze.