Just when you thought cupid was dead...

... feeling unloved, ever-so-lonely, did I mention unloved? And then this random screw-in-the-cake guy gets my email address and actually uses it. He didn't send chapters from his novel, bless'im.

And then I had another certain someone tell me about a sex shop opening in Coolidge Corner (Good Vibrations, replacing Grand Opening), on Wednesday. And not-so-subtley tell me he's going. Between the hours of 6-7. Weird? Who does that? "Hi, we've been flirting but never touched, wanna come to a sex shop with me?"

The answer, however, is yes. Because I'm easy like that.

Now all I have to do is find that contractor's number and... Oh, wait, I didn't tell you about the contractor? Two guys were rebuilding a porch down the road from Pea's place, and I'd pass them twice a day, sometimes more, just goin' about my business. One was chatty. He was the shorter, hairier one. He gave me his card. Twice. The tall hot one was flirty but, alas, did not speak English. Or Italian, Spanish or Latin. I was at a loss. Hairy didn't speak so clearly, either, but I comprehended more than I let on when he mangled something like, "Why you no call me?" the other week.

My descriptions are unfair. He's merely Lebanese; the hairiness can't be helped. He was actually quite handsome, despite the shortness. And the big gold chain, complete with overstated crucifix a-danglin'. Hmm, no, actually that's where the handsome part stopped.

And then there's Uly. We're running an abridged version of our friendship right now. It's necessary. He can't know how much I worry about him. And I don't like to think about the little slips he's made about how important I am in his life. We're already ruined. There's no point.

So let's have a vote, shall we?