First of all, I'm a nerd. That being said, I'm a very good looking nerd. The reason I say this is because after a fun evening of searching for the perfect (no, not purrfect--because that's ridiculous to both say and type) cat with Chelle, I came home and turned on C-Span. Yes, C-Span, that ever so exciting channel. But hey, I'm a woman and a voter and I think I need to see the hearings going on with Judge Alito. My cell phone alerts me to the fact that I have a text message (which by the way, it has a little special ring tone, "Straight to Hell" by the Clash if you must know...I knew you needed to know that).

I look at the message and I see that John is a nerd too, and is also watching C-Span. WTF? A match made in heaven or in pocket protector land?? Anyways, for the next hour my thumbs furiously typed messages in response to his...why no phone calls?? I hate the phone and so does he! However, after an hour of them and realizing that I've probably burned through my monthly allotment of 1,000 I was really wishing that he just had AIM and that we could continue our cranial courtship online. After message 996, I realized that although he was going to flirt with me, he was not going to be asking me out. I felt the need to take matters in my own hands.

It's not that hard of a thing to do when you're fairly sure that the person is interested in you so I wrote (ok, pressed my thumbs into the keypads), "So are you going to save me from the snobs of Manayunk this Friday night? I'm going to be there for a happy hour." (For those of you who do not know the Pennsylvania towns so well...Manayunk is the young, hip and ever trendy sister of Philadelphia...rest assured, everyone is younger, hipper and trendier than you...even if you're Lindsay Lohan and Hilary Duff all rolled into one. People there are that cool. As you might've noticed, I tend not to like the area that much...but it can be fun at times--especially if you go down with the right group of people.

So in typical John fashion (because I've known him now less than a month), he first needs to address the snob comment, before addressing the rest of the question. Then, he types back, "Why don't you just skip the snobbery and come straight to the city and hang out with me?" My heart leapt, "Finally I thought, after only 1,293 texts he finally did it..." And so I replied, "I might be able to do that, I have to warn you I know Philly about as well as I know Tokyo." (bless his little heart if he had sent a message asking me when I went to Tokyo, I would've driven down to his house and strangled him). Then a puzzling text came, "Well maybe I can save you from your happy hour if you need me, I'll be around all Friday. Just call if you need me."

Huh? No..nope...not so fast Buster. You must've misinterpreted me text as reluctance, or you're a dunce...I quickly thought, then typed faster than the speed of light, "No John, you will be my source of entertainment and amusement. Find something fun for me to do on Friday, I'm counting on you. Good night, I'm going to bed to read my book."

The reply, "Ok."

Two minutes later, "What book are you reading?"

And so we wait to see what my "amusement and entertainment source" comes up with. I can find no fault in the fact that he seems to take direction well...and well, the fact that he's interested in what I'm reading doesn't hurt either...because I'm a nerd. A sexy little nerd. Oh, and my face was beet red when I was sending him the title, The Secret Fruit of Peter Paddington while I'm sure he was snuggling down with a copy of Ulysses or maybe a copy of Hustler...he has that smart/but still a 6'1" I can-kick-your-ass-this-way-til-Sunday look about him. And I find both features hot. Until Friday I'm saying a litany in my head, "Please don't fuck this up John...please don't fuck this up..." Say it with me people.