Leave Your Socks at the Door

About a month ago I got an e-mail from a friend, asking if I was single because I would be "perfect" for her brother. I'm not so much into the whole set-up thing, but the idea that anyone thought there might be anything remotely resembling a "perfect" bone in my body was hard to pass up. I put it off for a while on account of the little child I was dating at the time, but I opened up the floor for conversation and added the guy to my Facebook. We chatted quite a bit and he asked me out several times, so finally we met last night. He was a nice guy. You know, nice, like lemonade or potato chips...they're good while you're enjoying them, but probably wouldn't miss them if there was some kind of lemon/potato catastrophe that wiped them out forever. We had a couple of drinks, exchanged witty banter, and somewhere along the way I started texting my upstairs neighbour. Don't ask how I managed to redeem myself after last week's antics, because to be honest, I myself am astounded at the elite level of awesomeness I seemingly possess as of late. I must be careful to use my powers wisely. Anyhoo, I planned to meet with upstairs neighbour after my date was over with Bachelor # 7,612. We ended the date with a hug, and off I went to sabotage any chance of a future with lemon/potato man.

20 minutes later upstairs neighbour came over. As he walked out the door of his place, his brother/roommate, (the one I kissed last week), asked him where he was going, and I was happy to hear he decided to keep the details vague by responding with "out." Hopefully his brother failed to notice that he left the apartment in his socks. I won't bore you with the details of how we ended up banging on the couch...twice. It was a good time. When he left, we decided that, purely for reasons of geographic convenience, we will continue our sexual relationship as frequently as needed to relieve stress and build cardiovascular strength. We also agreed to inform each other immediately, should either of us start to develop an emotional attachment to the other. That would most certainly be me since I'm the one with the expiration date on my ovaries, however I feel strong and very man-like these days, so it shouldn't be a problem. I can't see how this could possibly end badly...