Cheeseburger in Paradise

So after weeks of doing the different-schedules dance, Marky Mark and I have found a night that works for both of us.

He suggested a city bike ride followed by ice cream in the park. Of course my cynical side immediately groans and says "CHEESY!" but whatever, cheesy isn't so terrible. I need to stop being such a jerk.

There are worse kinds of cheesy. Like when a guy rolls up to your apartment in his Roadster, top down, and asks if you've ever seen the city from a convertible, cause it's (as he puts his shades on) "amazing." Or the guy who shows up to play shuffleboard wearing a sweatband, and wants you to put on his wristbands. And no one knows the last time he washed those puppies. Or the guy who wants to fist bump everytime you agree on something. Sit at the bar? Fist bump. Beer? Fist bump. Darts? Fist bump. I'm totally out of touch with women and the fact that people don't fist bump anymore, not to mention women never fist bumped to begin with? Fist bump.

Anyway, we talked for a bit last night and I'm looking forward to hanging out. He did ask if I was worried, since I've never met him and as the guy he's supposed to make sure I'm comfortable when we go out. So he knows boundaries! He also has a hot voice and a funny personality with a hint of naïveté that's really endearing.

I do have a little knot in my stomach, because every time I go to meet a first date, I feel like I'm about to walk on stage at a bachelor auction. Either the crowd will instantly yell bids, or I'll hear crickets.

Shall we start the bidding at $50?