Last night brought another freaky reminder of how small this city is. An acquaintance at Nikki's birthday party told me, "You should meet my friend Justin. He goes to your gym and you guys would totally hit it off."
Turns out that her friend Justin is the same Justin that I already have a date with tonight. He's a friend of my coworker, who has no connection to the people at the birthday party.
If I were really into "signs," I'd probably be all aflutter about this. I'm taking a wait-and-see approach though, since the last time I thought the universe was trying to tell me something, I ended up getting dropped like a bad habit.
Also, in the past I've found it problematic to date men who frequent my usual haunts (see: Barista Debacle of 2003, also: Barista Debacle of 2004, also: Bookstore Debacle of 2006). In the event that things go badly, I'll feel obligated to switch my routine at the gym, and I think we all know how unlikely it is that I'll be successful at morning workouts. Although, I'm the more long-standing member of the gym, so he's really the one who should have to switch.
Maybe I'll draw up a document outlining this contingency plan and make him sign it before the appetizers. That would be quite winning, I'm sure.
This entire entry is like something out of Sex and the City. Apparently I've been lobotomized without my knowledge.