Oh, to be a fly on the wall tonight.

Mike is out with a friend of his for dinner. “Really bad Mexican” was what I believe the description was. He’s coming over in a bit to watch a movie.

But he, the brat, told me that his friend informed him that they had to go somewhere they could “talk” so he could hear about this new girl.

*sigh*

If only I could listen. Would I like what I heard? I think so, mostly. After all, no one is perfect, right? I’m sure there are things about me that bug him. I’m kind of all over the place sometimes. My thighs are kinda squishy and flabby. I’m an idiot about the Foo Fighters.

I just wish I could have heard it. I’m nosy that way. I wonder what his friend will say. What cautions, what words of advice. After all, we’ve both been hurt, recently, so I’d respect that from his friend.

It just adds butterflies to my stomach, I suppose. We won’t even discuss the nagging shards of self-doubt that I try to quell. Silly. I guess it shouldn’t matter so much.

Part of me worries about the conversation, and part of me worries about how confident I feel that it will be (mostly) good. I’ve not been in this situation before.

Curious as all hell,

michelle