Confessions of a Romance Writer 3

CONFESSIONS OF A ROMANCE WRITER 3




It appears I have gotten myself into a pickle. I have accepted a date! And now, I would like to go hide in the closet. What was I thinking? It was a lot better when I yearned for one, but now that I have one, well I’m scared to death! Although I really don’t see much of anything coming out of this besides a free meal. I spoke to him on the phone, he seemed like a nice person. But I probably won’t fit in well with his lifestyle. If I haven’t mentioned this before, I’m a witch. Yes, you read right, a witch. Some people call us Wiccan but I don’t exactly fit into that niche. About two years ago, I came out of the, shall we say, “Broom Closet.” I no longer hide what I am, and I tend to sway toward a more gothic style. Got the picture. Well try painting that over the phone, gently, and then there are the tattoos!



When he called me the first thing I did was declare my lifestyle. Better to get it out in the open, that way if they want to run away screaming they have a good five minuets to figure out how to get out of the conversation. But this juicy tidbit of information didn’t phase him. Well, score one for me! I think. Now all I have to do is make it through one meal. Oh Goddess, help me! After all how scary can one date be? After all something’s got to give. Every morning I watch this little terrier come trotting up to our patio doors. He’s here for my little Boston Terrier, Khet-Khet (it means dog in middle Egyptian). Even the dog gets more action than I do! But I ’m going to be brave, I’m going get all dressed up in black (he, he) and go out to dinner. And if the man survives more than one hour with me there’s hope for me yet!



I uploaded my picture on the dating website this week. I got twenty five hits in one day and one man emailed me four times!!! That’s encouraging. Except they all lived in other states and they were all ten years older than me. That’s discouraging. But I am convinced Mr. Right is out there just waiting to sweep me off my feet and carry me away. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Oh to be twenty again! That’s not gonna happen! So I guess I am resigned to accept myself at my present age, 100. At least that’s how I feel every time I look at that picture! Maybe that’s why I keep getting older men, maybe they just don’t have their glasses on.



So, here I go. A nice long bubble bath and then to find just the right thing to wear. Something low cut long and mysterious. Yes that’s it, low, long, and sexy. I think I might have a handle on this dating thing. A nice meal and small talk. I’m beginning to look forward to this! Maybe I should read the paper, this way I have something to talk about. Dark, mysterious, and smart, I am confident, and ready to take on the world! Oh Shit! The doorbell!