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From August 30th to September 22nd, Mercury was retrograde. During that time, it just so happens that I had three separate instances of transitioning-to-text-to-set-up-first-date that all went eerily silent, never to be heard from again. I can only assume Mercury was taking well-aimed dumps on all these doomed conversations. Coincidence? Can’t be.
One set of plans managed to survive (because we safely stayed within the conversation realms of the Bumble app; and because he actually seemed intelligent, I checked in), and I met him yesterday afternoon. It was brief, good, and a wee bit awkward, but I think we were both just nervous in the broad light of day. In the words of myself: We. Shall. See.
In other Mercury Retrograde news, a blast from my virginal college past has recently moved not just to New York, but my neighborhood. Some of you might know the story of how I boldly Gchatted my way into a Valentine’s Day date with my older, perfect-jawed, painfully-witty newspaper editor. For those of you who don’t, it’s quite possibly my best story ever, and thankfully preserved in a saved Gchat. After reconnecting, I’ve learned that he just broke up with someone AND he’s become a vegan. So, I think it’s safe to say we’re in a fully platonic place 6 years later, but he also flaked on me last week so it would be easy to mistake him for a potential something.