Dating like a Rock Star

Hot Bouncer will be simmering on the back burner for a week or two, while we focus our attention on Rock Star.

I met Rock Star online and we have our first date Thursday night. We've averaged about 5-10 email exchanges per day since last week. Last night, he called and we giggled and chatted for about an hour. There are several things that lead me to believe he has potential:

1) He's cute.
2) He's over 30.
3) He lives four blocks away.
4) He's as into food as I am.
5) He's funny.
6) He's a motherfucking Rock Star.

Apparently, he also belongs to my ghetto gym, as of two weeks ago. Last night, we got to talking about some of the "characters" at the establishment.

Me: Have you seen Paris Hilton? Trucker hat? Juicy sweatsuit? Totally emaciated?

RS: Yes! And she has the shorter blond friend with the implants?

Me: Yes! And they don't even work out. They just walk around with full faces of makeup on.

RS: Yes! Ugh, I've noticed there are a lot of emaciated girls at that gym.

That's all it takes to win my heart, really. Complain about emaciated girls at the gym. My plan for tomorrow? A couple of drinks and then usher myself home like the nice Catholic girl I was raised to be. His plan? Get me liquored up and drag me to Sing Sing, where I will begin with my tone-deaf rendition of Bette Davis Eyes and end with a bad Rock Star/Jess duet. We'll see.