A confession

I know I have whined in the past about getting ready for dates. So much girls have to do that guys don't. It really doesn't seem right, but, somehow, at the same time, I have to admit that sometimes, getting ready for the date . . . is the best part.

Usually I get going abut an hour and a half before go time/

I add a caveate here that the second date I put in a little extra tme because I cur my hair. A little variety for the boy that makes it past the first date hurdle. I'm a giver like that and, quite frankly, not many make it to the second date.

I turn the music up. I mean the window panes vibrate. I fix myself a drink, ameratta sour, vodka lemonade or a vodka cranberry juice with a little 7-up. These are my favorites.

Then I do a mud mask or exfoliate and I take a nice hot bath, shave the legs and scrub my skin so that it is super soft. The irony, of course, is that I don't actually want anyone touching me on the first date, but I digress.

Out of the tub, I dance around for a good 15 minutes (Have to dry off and such), put on the lotion/oil and then I start the process of make-up application.

Last thing, brush my teeth That moment right before I head out still a little toasty from the drink, war paint on, cute outfit, heels, totally optimistic and ready to have fun. . . that's a good moment.

Sure half these guys turn out to be nut jobs and frequently the evening is not filled with the dazzling conversation of which I dream, but sometimes they aren't so bad, some times I even enjoy myelf because I'm thinking of how it will play out on the blog, and one of these dates will turn out to be good. But still, I like the challenge of putting on my pretty clothes and seeing if I can be witty and charming and desirable. Ok. Now you know.

PS wrote this on the plane on the way to New York, little did I know what lay in store for me.