Last week was full of fun times. One day I had an appointment with the dentist for a cleaning. I had to wait a while, so when I fnished filling out my forms I passed the time just sort of looking around the waiting room. At one point, I happened to glance down at my chest and I noticed the most horrible thing: my boobs appeared to be way lower than I remembered them being!

Was I wearing an especially inept bra? Was it due to my heavy sweater? Could it just have been an optical illusion, caused by my looking down at my chest, instead of at it, like in a mirror?

Surreptitiously, I sneaked a glance at the man sitting next to me. He was still working on his forms and hadn’t yet noticed that I was, like, ogling myself. Since I had some time to kill, I grabbed my bra straps just above the cups and pulled them upwards. Well, that was better - high boobs! I decided that my bra straps must have gotten loosened in the washing machine or something. Slowly the fear dissipated and I settled back in my chair with a magazine from the coffee table. It was from June 2004. (Yup, I go to sort of a ghetto dental office.)

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Also, that man who was in town for work last week? Asked me out. Oh yes. And do you want to guess how old he is? Go on, guess.

HE IS FORTY-SIX.

(I am twenty-five.)

Um, yeah. I went out with him, because why not? It’s just dinner. It was just a work dinner between two work colleagues. A totally platonic work dinner which involved sake.

Totally fine!

Anyway, I had a really good time. We went for sushi, which was his idea. He was all knowledgeable about the sushi and the sake, and I am not, so I let him do the ordering. We actually had a lot to talk about. It started out about work, but we also talked about dating (he is divorced and, according to my boss, dates a LOT) and traveling and music and pets and Sideways and other assorted topics. The age conversation was sort of funny.

Work Dude: So, is your boyfriend moving to Georgia with you?

Me: What boyfriend? The one in my head?

Work Dude: Oh, [my boss] made it sound like you had a really serious boyfriend, like you were practically engaged.

Me: What? Maybe you’re thinking of someone else; he’d never say that about me.

Work Dude: Hmm…maybe.

Me: Anyway, you can’t get married at 25. That’s crazy talk.

Work Dude: You’re 25?!

Me: How old did you think I was?

Work Dude: I just…I don’t know. You look young, but you come off much older when you speak. Like, 30? I don’t know.

Me: (Wow, I need to buy some better eye cream!) THIRTY? Keerist. So, how old are you?

Work Dude: OH! Ha ha ha. Forty-six.

Me: (Passes out in my sushi.)

But yeah, it was a good time, even if it did get a little weird afterwards. At dinner he had told a story about a show he produced in Chicago that had all these fireworks and tumblers and light shows and blah dee blah, and he mentioned that he had photos, and I agreed that I “should see them sometime.” Then I walked him back to his hotel, expecting we’d say goodbye in the lobby, but he started heading toward his room. I asked where we were going and he said, “To see those photos!” I was thinking, “Um. Okay, weird.”

When we got to his room, he asked to take my coat and I said, “No no no! I’ve, um, I’ve gotta go in a minute. I’m just going to keep it on.” Smooth, right? I know; I should give lessons.

I oohed and aahed over the photos and then left and things were fine.

The next day at work he called and said he’d had a great time and would I like to go out again before he went back to Chicago on Monday? I am a very trusting soul, so we made dinner plans for Sunday.

That night a very random thing happened. I was walking past the White House one night after work when a bike courier whizzed past me and yelled out my name. I whipped around and there, sailing by me, was a guy I went to high school with! Awesome. I yelled out a hello and he waved and kept pedaling. Immediately I called my friend, who had dated him senior year, to tell her. She was very excited that he was still cute. We decided that he didn’t stop to talk because he had been dispatched on a super-rush job and the fate of important documents was his responsibility! Ah, the glamorous life of the bike courier.

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My dinner with Work Dude last night was great. He’s a very interesting guy. We went to another nice restaurant, and we ate and drank a lot, and just talked and talked. I left my umbrella at the restaurant, which is sort of a bummer, but whatever. It’s not every Sunday night that I get a chance to wear fancy shoes. Also, again this time he had a “reason” to invite me up to his hotel room afterwards, but it turned out to be totally fine. Better than fine - freaking awesome! Are you ready? He had bought me a present.

A box. Of Godiva. Chocolates.

Oh, the ecstacy! The agony (of not being able to button my jeans) and the ecstacy (of the hazelnut truffle). What a great weekend.