the flutter

so, i'm getting rather excited about something, and i'm really quite disturbed by this fact.

i met this boy the other night...i admired him from the garden as he walked into the bar, and once i got up the chutzpah to speak to him discovered he's a really nice guy. very interesting.

and in theory, we're going to get together on wednesday night. i say "in theory" because there is a possibility of cancellation (As there always is. he just gets points for telling me about it up front, and having a legitimate excuse--he's a recent transplant from maine, and his cousin has agreed to drive some of his stuff down to brooklyn for him. said cousin may appear on wednesday night)(shut up, i believe him). but, i remain frighteningly excited nonetheless.

this is distressing. i have learned from experience, both my own and that of others, that getting excited about such things tends to blaze the trail to abject tragedy. so, i'm trying very hard to curb my enthusiasm here. because this boy...this boy plays the bass and cooks and has sideburns AND big geeky glasses and he returns phone calls when he says he's going to...oh, it's horrible. horrible. nothing has even happened except for a really nice conversation, which i find to be more and more rare in the new york bar scene. i swear, tragedy is coming, i can hear the violins already.

i've got the flutter and as such i fear i'm totally fucked.

but oh, i've got the flutter(recall my whinging about not feeling the flutter forever and a day?), and there's a long and dying winter between me and the last flutter i felt. here's hoping that this new one doesn't turn out to be quite the fuckwit that last flutter-bringer turned out to be.