  I'm back. And I'm a little too fizzy and funny and fine to go to sleep just yet. Red Shirt is a CATCH, and we just had the most enjoyable evening together. Now, I'm fully aware that first-week impressions are more puppy love than reality. Really, I am.
But our date was so effortless, and we continually found ourselves on the same wavelength on every topic from monogamy to reincarnation to when we're going to have our next date. It's true! We started planning our next date halfway through our first official date. (And, for the record, he brought it up first. I was undeniably thinking about it, but he brought it up first . ) Unfortunately, we're both scheduled to the gills -- mostly with travel -- over the next month, and the next two times we'll be able to see each other are this Sunday night and the following Wednesday night.
That's five days until I get another look at his sexy legs and his sparkly eyes and his handsome smile. Sigh. And pardon my gushing, but he scores BIG on the Boyfriend Aptitude Test. To wit: Well-read and articulate. check Culturally, socially and politically aware. check Armed with amusing stories involving Betty White and Elaine Stritch. check Looks forward to his date with The New York Times every Sunday morning. check Accustomed to offering well-reasoned opinions on a range of topics. check Capable of bursting into show tunes at the drop of a hat. check Knows all the lyrics when he does. check Gainfully employed in an interesting, cerebral career. check Has a CD player stocked with things other than techno-drivel.
check Is my exact same size in shirts, pants AND shoes. * check Looks amazing from every angle. check Uses draconian correctly in casual conversation. check Has a large framed photo of Bea Arthur hanging over his toilet. check Says "expresso. " Um ... I'll choose to see that one as cute. Anyway, I achieved my goals tonight: a great dinner together, smooching on the couch, lots of physical contact and plans for more of the same -- all without compromising our virtue.
At least not this time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some happy dreams waiting for me on the other side of the covers. (And please don't barf over that last saccharine-infused sentence. My apologies to the linguistically diabetic. ) Good night! * Because everyone knows that the whole purpose of choosing the filthy homosexual lifestyle is to find someone your own size and double your wardrobe. 
