*blue balls not included.
The only word to come close to describe the feeling: beaming
… and it was as easy as one text message: One more night are you as excited as me
If only there were deeded rooftops or mountaintops nearby, I would be screaming an endless, echo-y yes! But instead, I’ll shy my blushing face away from… er, myself (alone in my own place and I’m embarrassing myself!) and steadily increasing the yeah-yeah-yeah jumping/kicking/skipping dance in the kitchen upon picking up my cell and reading Good c u tomorrow.
And there it is… the feeling. That “I-can’t-wait-to-see-you” feeling. The “O-M-G-he’s-finally-here!” feeling. The turning of the calendar page and realizing — he’s here tomorrow.
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This blog is about pursuit: a transplanted Clevelander (me) in a new city (that's you, Pittsburgh!), pursuing the role of a self-employed copywriter, becoming a roller derby badass and somehow merging all my to-do items into one ever-growing Bucket List.
And of MY boyfriend. His blue balls started this mess.
