I've got a thing tonight, it could be very easily described as a date, if one were to take a specific view on it.
It's certainly been planned like a date, a few interesting activities have been planned including a special tour of some hidden parts of London. A few different routes have been planned so depending on how the date is going a specific sort of bar or pub can be 'happened upon'. Late night options have even been considered - just in case we are filled with a burning need to go to some sort of ultra-cool jazz club hidden away in a side street where the door man owes me a favour.
I'm thinking about clothes as well, this person has only seen me in waistcoats which is lovely but perhaps tonight might be better served by a jumper. To show that I'm not always so formal. This jumper would dictate my choice of socks and then of course underwear. Not that I'm expecting anyone to see my underwear tonight but a chap should always be careful, and co-ordinated.
The reasons why this event tonight shouldn't really be considered a date are two-fold.
1) I'm staying at H's place on his sofa. Thus I have a curfew. My parents never gave me a time limit when I was growing up so this is something of a new experience. The curfew isn't any sort of enforced thing, it's just that H couldn't find the spare keys so I have to head back when he is still awake.
2) While Operation New Life is rattling along at a fair old pace (The Ultra-van was delivered today it's almost exactly like the A-team van) I still feel sort of transient. I hate it when people use the concept of timing when explaining why something didn't work out, you know the sort 'if only we had met a few years ago'. People who use that line should be immediately stabbed with a fork.
What I think it is I've just mislaid my mojo. Much like H with his spare keys. I'm sure it's about somewhere if I really look for it but right now it's 'missing in action' not dead, just M.I.A.
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