Procrastination hurt me yesterday. I should’ve been preparing for Wings‘ visit tomorrow night, but I wasn’t.
So tonight, I need to:-
- tidy up
- change the bed
- clean the bathroom
- prep & pre-cook some of the dinner (tomorrow’s work commitments mean a tight turnaround between my return home and her arrival)
- manscape (oh yeah)
- select an outfit to maximise her lust
- figure how the fuck I stage a romantic candlelit dinner for two in a small flat with no dining table
What’s that? Like, half-an-hour?
Tinder conversion! The extremely pretty short-haired horse-riding lady has levelled up to the phone numbers and Whatsapp stage. We exchanged a few messages this morning. She’s hard to read and I think she’ll be easier to talk to in person. I’ll try to set this up for next week.
I’ll also try to see Hot Blonde Friend next week. As I said before, I think it’ll be more of a catchup than a date, but you never know. I mean, we each clicked on the other due to photographic hotness, right?
Timing issues meant no lunch with Buddy. We did manage a ten minute chat during work downtime. No dating chat as North was also in the room.
Aphrodite flies home today. We had a little Whatsapp chat this morning. The usual gently flirtatious stuff. She seems very keen to get together, so I guess that could happen as soon as the weekend.
Speaking of Aphrodite, I sent her a photo of me and the celebrity I’d been working with that day. She responded with a fresh photo of her in her underwear, looking very hot indeed.
“Just wanted to distract you while you’re hard at work.”
“I am now hard at work!
Hot Boss is having a particularly pretty day today. Her skirt is short enough to reveal her inner-thigh scar and tight enough to reveal her chosen style of underwear for the day.
We have some one-on-one time booked in this afternoon. Must remain professional.
It has been suggested by a female friend (oh alright, it’s mmrobosoul) that I let my stubble evolve into a a proper, styled beard.
For a laugh, I showed her “The Riker” (see Twitter), the mid-shave point between “hobo” and my chosen facial hair length, and was enthusiastically told to “keep it!”
I’m torn. I know it looks good but, at the same time, I don’t like it. I think the dislike stems from the fact that the more facial hair I have, the more I look like someone I don’t want to be: my dad.
This requires contemplation and deliberation.