Tonight I have my first date with one of my Hurry Date matches. (The end result of the Hurry Date was fairly anticlimactic: out of perhaps ten or fifteen people I circled “Y” for, three also circled “Y” for me. These did not include, alas, the publicist for All My Children.
Surprisingly enough, they did include the guy to whom I made a confession of murder; I’m seeing him tonight. I suspected in the dim bar lighting that he might be a septuagenarian, but I wasn’t sure so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. One of the two others responded to my post-match e-mail but not to any subsequent e-mails, and the other didn’t even respond to my post-match e-mail, which was okay because I had absolutely no recollection of him anyway.
Not the most fruitful endeavor I’ve ever undertaken.
Maybe I should confess to murder more often.