There are some dates that make you want to open the freezer and drink straight from the vodka bottle the minute you come home. Last Saturday night was one of those dates. He was cute, blond, dimpled; he screamed Abercrombie and frat houses.
After numerous conversations with girlfriends demanding I open my world and date men other than my type (old, neurotic and insane), I decided to go on a date with a clean-cut guy who was my age, normal, and seemingly had all his marbles. Keep reading »