Wanna Come In?

What is it about inviting someone to your house that makes you so neurotic? I started talking to this guy, and we went out on one date.  Which, was a great by the way.  He actually wanted to meet me in pubic (that’s like one in a million lately).  We went out for drinks and then took a walk to the water.  We ended up sitting on a bench talking, and well making out like teenagers. He walked me home, we made out some more outside the gate to my building, and I have never felt like such a city girl as I did that night.

So what’s next from that.  We clearly had a connection, and there were no issues with chemistry (I mean come on, I am pretty sure if I leaned back enough he would have ended up on top of me on that bench and we would have had sex right then and there).  Well, the next step for us, was I invited him to come over to my house.  The plan is to order dinner, have drinks, and I made fudge earlier this week and promised that I would share it with him.

Well – now looking back on this idea – it was a rash decision. I never really thought of what it means to invite someone over like, intentionally invite someone over for more than just 2 hours.  This means that I have to clean my apartment. And not just clean my apartment, I mean, CLEAN my apartment.  I feel like I have to showcase where I live, and almost make it look like I don’t actually live here.  I can guarantee guys don’t spend this much time thinking about how their apartment looks.  If anything they will move the pile of dirty laundry to the closet so that you can’t see it, and put all the dirty dishes from the sink to the dishwasher, no guarantee that they will run it. I on the other hand, spent an hour cleaning my bathroom, and hour on my living room, an hour on my kitchen, washed 4 loads of laundry, ran the dishwasher, changed my sheets.

I even joked with the guy talking about how I needed to clean since I was having guests, and he admitted all he needed was clean sheets and soft pillows. Clean sheets and soft pillows.  He claims to not care if he walked into my apartment and saw something where it looked like a tornado ran through it.

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