As of Tuesday (TWO WEEKS LONGER THAN NECESSARY), I am officially a homeowner. It’s beautiful. You would love it. My girls came over to help celebrate, drink wine, organize the clutter, and discuss the many options of where! To put! The plates! Slightly buzzed, I texted The Realtor (and I know everyone is rooting against him at this point BUT I DON’T MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICES) and we had our little flirtation exchange, which was then discussed the following day.

Him: “Hey drunky, you suck … my phone died around midnight-ish and I got your last text this morning. I totally would’ve come over to ‘hang out’. Haha. You hungover?”

Me: “Yes.”

Him: “I figured … as a sober guy, I need the green light from the sober version of the drunk chick …” [Later that day] “Are you embarrassed that you textually molested me last night …?”

Me: “Um, yeah, no. I don’t think you’ve fully comprehended how I work. You would have gotten no where. Are you embarrassed that you’ve ignored a drunk hot blonde twice now?”

Him: “That’s why I’m not trying too hard. It’s because you’re weird and you think too much. I can help you with that though.”

Me: “You don’t know me well enough to know that.”

Him: “Nope, no embarrassment here. I do know you well enough to know that. I am very intuitive … and smart … and good looking … and funny …” [thirty seconds later] “… and charming …”

Me: “A.) No you don’t. And B) Not as much as you think you are.”

Him: “I know your game. You have a huge and enormous crush on me. It’s ok. I also know that those don’t come often for you and don’t last very long.”

Me: “Haha. Try I’ve dated your type before and no amount of charm can compensate for the negatives. But it’s ok that you’re totally in love with me. I have that affect on most dudes.”

Him: “My type? Enlighten me please? So at least I can hide it the next time I fall hopelessly in love with a ‘good girl’ …”

Me: “That’s not me – that good girl label.”

Him: “Hahaha … right … so, can I be enlightened about ‘my type’? I reeeally want to know.”

He was not enlightened. Mostly because I didn’t want him to deconstruct all the reasons I have constructed. The Sister wonders if I’ve met my match; I wonder if I should stop playing with fire.