update

i'm glad i trusted my gut, and didn't write the other two guys off, because the main contender, Mr. Front Runner, dropped the ball last night in a spectacular display of flaky inconsideration.

so what did he do? here goes. during our date last wednesday, i invited him to be my guest at what was inarguably the hottest art event of the season, taking place last night. this is a ticket that everyone i know was asking for, and i invited him. when i woke up and saw it on the front page of the arts section yesterday, i was so excited that i'd be showing up with this handsome man, blah blah blah.

around 230 i leave him a voicemail asking where he'd like to meet. i then go about my extensive grooming routine, growing increasingly apprehensive as the hours tick by and i hear nothing. finally, at 5 o'clock, two hours before the event begins, i get an email from him, basically saying that he's exhausted and drained and not up for it, and can we make a date for another time?

are you kidding me?

seriously?

of course i don't reply, and call my friend kate who is more than happy to join me. i think that maybe once he realizes that he hasn't gotten a reply, he'll call, just in case, you know, i'm not near my email and never got the message. just so, you know, i don't think i'm being stood up.

no.

no call.

i'm washing my hands of this one.

but i have a date tonight with the scouser (that's slang for resident of liverpool, dontchaknow), and one on thursday with the photographer. so yeah, moving on.

men!