Ring-a-Ding-Ding

I talked to the Ringer on the phone last night for forty-five minutes. He was a bit worried that I was sitting home on a Saturday night (not yet having met me and seen my glowing, resplendent beauty for himself, I think he is still fearful I may turn out to suffer from Elephant Man disease).

We ended up talking about the Amish quite a bit for some reason. It was a bit odd, but much, much better than talking about serial killers.

The Ringer has two children. I should be running away as fast as my chunky thighs can carry me, shouldn't I? Shouldn't I? Kids are fine, for an hour. But not if they're fathered by my date. Besides, I only want this guy for the summer. That's not cool for his kids. I think he's looking for something serious.

Damn it. The Ringer might not be a ringer after all. We're having drinks Wednesday. If there's anywhere near the level of chemistry I expect, I may just have to take a page from The Man's Book and lie until I get him in the sack, then never call him again. It wouldn't be THAT wrong; after all, I'm good in bed. He'd at least get a pleasant evening out of it. Right?

Shit. You wouldn't think it'd be this hard to find a summer fling. In reality, it isn't. There are a ton of gross, cheesy guys out there I could fling with till the cows come home. But even in a fling I want someone interesting, someone of quality (not to mention someone who radiates the easy confidence of the well-endowed). I have the distinct feeling I am doomed to disappointment. (Suddenly I hear the voice of my last summer fling--my gods, it was 7 years ago--"The secret to happiness is to lower your expectations." How right you were, my dear boy.)

Perhaps it would be better to focus on training for the AIDSmarathon instead. I doubt it would make for interesting blogging, though. The hot, steamy, sweaty tale of miles logged and speeds and foot problems and heart rates... I wonder how many people in the world have taken up running as a substitute for sex. I'm sure I can't be the only one. After all, look how happy these people are. And I bet not a one of them's getting any.