His sweat smelled like Cheetos and he wore a kilt. Yes, my date on this balmy, humid, moisture dripping late July Sunday afternoon fancies himself a Scottish Viking plunked down in the middle of central Pennsylvania. Lest anyone think I deem every date over 6’ as Viking in stature because of my previously recounted … More No More Vikings
The do-re-me warm up is over, and given that the flight has flown mostly to my liver by now, I don’t feel like leaning in to shout over an accordion of all things (Rhineland DNA be damned!). I agree to move the date past drinks to dinner. Be open. I suggest a place within walking … More Viking Sings the Blues: Part 2 (Ginger takes the mic)
I knew a first date on my birthday was risky but I had never dated a Ginger Viking before. The evening had the potential to be epic. OR. Or it could be an utter disaster that I would kick myself for attempting when I could have been enjoying the typical capstone of Single Girl Birthday … More Viking Sings the Blues: Part 1 (the do-re-me warm-up)
Sleeping on the Diagonal 