*blue balls not included.
Had my third date on Wednesday night at La Dolce Vita in Little Italy.
Waiter asked while my date excused himself to the restroom if he was my “boyfriend.” I had to laugh, but owned up to being on a date. I really don’t know why he asked. Maybe had something to do with the chocolate-soaked strawberries he brought to the table after dinner.
I suppose most importantly, I’m looking forward to Date #4.
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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.
