Things I Learned Up North

• I'm "city". Not "country". 
• Apparently living in Texas for a year and a half before the age of ten added a dollop of Southern to my accent, per both Montanans and Canadians. Huh.
• I'm apparently very attractive in both Montana and Canada. I got some attention. Mmhmm.
• And attention breeds confidence.
• Or maybe vice versa?
• It's fun to drink and drive. And by that, I mean drink while driving on a dirt road, not drive after you drink. That would be wrong. 
• I can drink a LOT and not get hangovers. I am a fucking superhero.
• Border patrol be staffed by dicks. "You have a gun in the car, don't you? DON'T YOU?!"
• Rodeos are fun, especially if you don't actually watch the rodeo.
• Canadians cannot dance.
• I was told that I am "the only girl who's ever made a one piece bathing suit look sexy". Fascinating. 
• I really do love country music.
• I could maybe live in Montana for like, a year. Max.
• But I could totally live in Vancouver. 
• I needed to get out of Southern California. 

Rejection Section

*sigh*

*sigh*

Good thing I wasn't cocky this morning, right? RIGHT?!

I already heard from the Neighbor. And while I'm "a lot of fun" and have "a great personality", he didn't feel "a super strong connection" relationship-wise. 

So, basically, he wasn't attracted to me.

But he wants to be friends. And not only that, he specifically mentioned inviting me to join him and his roommate for some sort of weekly thing they throw at their place, so I don't think it was just a kindly formality. 

So first I was kind of hurt, and pouty, and a bit enraged. 

But then I took a breath, and decided I didn't need to be hurt over someone rejecting me after one date. So I wasn't what he wanted, well I don't want someone who isn't excited about me. 

But I don't know, two rejections in one week is a lot for my poor little fragile self to handle. I could let this get to me. Or...I could not.

Wily Woman

Yesterday I was sitting at my desk, calm as can be, ever so content with how both my dates went on Monday. Usually I'm anxious as can be about when/if I'll hear from guys I meet and like, but that wasn't the case yesterday (much). I was zen.

Then, lo and behold, as I ate my macaroni and cheese frozen meal, I heard from Dude #2 early in the afternoon, less than 24 hours after our date. The gist was, hey, I had fun, want to go out again?

And I went like this.

Courtesy of a reader.

That has never happened to me, in the history of time. They always wait three days. Or at least two. Always. I've never had a guy so interested in me, or hell, so confident he eschews the usual dating games, that he asked me out again right away.

I must have made a good impression.

My feminine wiles, they are wily. 

We're seeing each other Thursday.