We had a rather nice relaxing time. Watched a couple of DVDs that turned out to be surprisingly good, saw White Noise in the theater which turned out to be sufficiently creepy to be enjoyable. I cooked breakfast a couple of times and remebered why I like to cook-- everything came out perfectly. The only "oops" was trying to go to Biaggi's and finding an hour-and-a-half wait, which turned into a blessing in disguise because we instead went to Buca and had incredibly sensual food. And a little wine. And when we got back to the apartment, we talked.
It was perhaps the best date that I've been on, at least in a very long time.
It was the absolute perfect date to lead into more romantic sensual pursuits.
And I didn't.
And I know exactly why, and I am okay with that choice. It means that I am indeed a nice guy, which is kind of the moment of resignation, but I can also look my friends in the eye when I see them next.
There are details which I shall keep private. Suffice it to say that I am much more confident once again.
She is a lovely and wonderful woman. And she remains my friend. And with that I am happy.