The guy I’m deciding whether to date just casually referred to Starbucks by its Nasdaq abbreviation. Those are the weird details about a dude that I notice, especially the MBA types.
He’s the first guy I’ve taken the least bit seriously since that actor fucked me sideways at the beginning of the year. I’ve had a fling or two in the interim — a three day drug bender with a crazy hot bartender, Vegas with a platonic partner-in-crime — but I can already tell this new guy isn’t just a seat filler.
He’s an executive at a toy company who — surprise — has a raging case of peter pan syndrome. That I don’t mind. I can handle a certain boyish charm as long as it’s not accompanied by emotionally crippling levels of self-involvement.
We’ll see. He comes recommended by the kind of mutual friends who know my dark side. They’ve indicated that he’s too much for most girls to handle, which of course, I interpret as a challenge.
There’s an ex-wife who’s not in the picture. No kids. He’s probably seen the inside of Passages Malibu, but that kind of shit doesn’t scare me. Best I can tell, he’s a wild man who’s managed to convince the world he has his shit together. I want that. Hell, I need that if I’m expected to hold my interest longer than a holiday weekend.
Yeah, we’ll see.