Lovesick in Chinese Restaurants
I’m having trouble asking for directions. I wish I could say this was an ego thing, where I’m one of those guys who like to know where they are going all the time, and likes to be the one who drives, because they know the directions. I’d like to be that guy who refuses to pull into a gas station, because he’s sure he remembers the way. But I’m really not, and the truth is, I have a really bad memory. It’s not like I forget little things, or big things, or long term or short term things, I forget everything, and right away, too. I will sometimes stop thirteen times in the space of a block to ask someone else where I need to go.
I do understand that this looks and sounds a whole lot like a head injury, or some chemical coursing through my blood. Those things could have happened to me recently, I don’t know. But I am on my way to meet someone charming at a local restaurant. Chinese food is good here, so that’s what we’re eating. But beyond that, I am just a complete basket case. I have been telling everyone I meet today what is happening with me. I met her, she met me, we clicked, something clicked, we had a day by the river, and went back to our hotels to change and get ready for the evening.
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