Got a pencil & paper?

Because my life requires a score card these days.

Initially, this was because my "love life" required one. There is Nasir, a very polite guy who's actually my age, though only 2 hello messages offline. There's Simohamed, a Moroccan with whom I've been corresponding just a little over facebook for MONTHS, though finally realized the reason he wouldn't set up a date is because his English is too low. Then there's Andrew, who seemed nice, but had no pictures, &, well... you know that won't fly. I gave him my what's app info & we even talked on the phone for a bit, but ultimately I have no idea if we have much or anything in common, including mutual attraction, & he hasn't responded to my message that said just that.

And now we are entering the lightning round, which thankfully only has 2 people: Jorge & Ludwig. Yes. I actually typed the name Ludwig. That is actually someone's name.

Jorge is, again, through some freak of fate, just a few years younger than me. He's in the military, writes like an American, though his accent is thick. Couldn't tell you where... I'm guessing Mexico. He's getting his Masters in engineering, though was already working in the private sector before he joined. He's nice, weirdly (to me, because I just don't encounter it. Ever) open with his feelings. Before we met he said, "Maybe I just really like you & want to see you." Then after we met is all, "when can I see you again?" Good guy... except for that whole not all that attractive thing. Thanks to his desperation to meet me & the fact that he had a big bottle of wine he needed help with, he came over last Thurs night. The wine, sadly, was Gallo, & even WORSE, moscato. It wasn't great, but I still drank a bit. He was plastered, & there was lame drunk sex which I should have just declined, but didn't. So that added an extra dimension of, this-is-not-helping-me-go-for-the-nice-guy over my usual.

At the same time, I had just started chatting with Ludwig, who is, wait for it... a French model. That is his actual job. He's in Seoul for 2 months shooting for.. something, who knows what. The FUNNY thing is, & I could NOT explain it, but I just didn't feel any sense of urgency to meet him initially. At all. If ever. We started chatting on a Sunday night, at around 10 o'clock, & he wanted to come over then. I rolled my eyes & said that night just wasn't going to work, period. In the past, that's usually sufficient for the ridiculously hot guys to decide they have other chicks to chase who have much more accommodating schedules & that's that. Instead, he said to let him know when worked for me. We ended up settling on 7 PM this past Sunday.

We confirmed that time & day the day before, plus the day of... but I STILL SOMEHOW managed in my head to turn that into I had to LEAVE at 7 PM. I didn't realize my sheer idiocy until he texted to tell me which exit he was at. FUUUUUUUCK. Well, suffice it to say I was horrified, terribly upset, b/c I was at least an hour away (& of course him being French, he thinks a 30 minute cab drive is VERY FAR). I asked if he could wait for me & he said he would. I kept a French model waiting. Who'd have thought?

Unsurprisingly, he is incredibly, amazingly good looking, with a truly perfect build. We walked around a park, & made out in said park. After about 2 hours, we decided we should get on our ways, but made plans for him to come to my place tonight, actually. No requests for my address to give the cab driver (like THAT would help in this fuck show where they likewise think an apartment 30 minutes away is too far), & no reply to my message asking if tonight was still ok. Given what I'd gleaned from him, there were 2 options: he fell asleep; or he had flaked on me & it wasn't my problem. Sure enough, at 9:30 he texted that he forgot and fell asleep b/c he worked until 4 AM. I said ok, another time. He said maybe this weekend. *I* stupidly said Saturday night was the only time I couldn't, so he told me maybe tomorrow night, & he'll tell me tomorrow.

Terrific. I either will have a nice, quiet Friday night to myself, or a night with a French model with little knowledge beforehand.

Suffice it to say, Ludwig is especially bad for Jorge, given that he's... a great kisser & a French fucking model. Who for reasons I still can't fully grasp or accept, wants to see me, even if it means he has to wait, or my idiocy or his work hours come up as obstacles. Jason isn't loving his "maybe, I'll tell you then." It does leave something to be desired, but meh. It's good for now. & unfortunately, more interesting than my wanna-be boyfriend, Jorge.