The computers crashed here at the office, and I left to go get some coffee at the Starbucks where Jonathan works. But I got lost on the way. And he wasn't there.
My date last night was fun, for the guy gets the way I speak. It's interesting for me, when someone understands and reciprocates the proper banter. To outsiders, it sounds like an argument. But, to those of us involved, it plays like a tennis match. We're supposed to do it again sometime this weekend.
An interesting side note about last night's date is that Aaron and I, during our conversation, were consistently under attack from "Sounds of the '70s" soft rock playing over the loudspeaker. It got to the point where, instead of speaking, we just listened for the next song, waiting for it to get worse. The songs became the conversation.
It started when, while eating, I made note of the Peter Cetera singing on Chicago's "You're the Inspiration."
I didn't mean to make an issue of it, but it followed like this.
Aaron and I would start talking. Then, the Carpenters would come up.
We'd try again. Barry Manilow would interrupt us.
I'd be mid-sentence, and Cat Stevens would begin.
Eventually, determined to have a good time, we just had to leave the restaurant and walk around Phipps Plaza, which is apparently my go-to date place.
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