Um, no.

I was out with a guy who, after hours of intellectual political conversation, informed me that I look about fourteen years old. Um, no. And then he didn't understand how that was an insult. First of all, he's twenty seven. Calling a girl he's out with HAS to be an insult, unless... he's into that kind of thing. Awful. He MEANT to say that I have a baby face, which I have been getting a lot lately, as everyone around me seems to be at least four years older than me, and because those people like to point out how much younger I am. Maybe he was just mad that I argued against his hero, Obama, for about an hour and a half. Not that I'm for McCain, either. I think I'm just still sore that Hillary lost, which apparently means I'm a lesbian feminist, according to this guy, who, thanks to Giorgie showing up at our pub, I know is named Paul, and not 'lambourghini guy'. I told him he was a bit sexist considering how intelligent he seemed to be, and he laughed. I had a good time, I must admit, and I do love the car. I think he felt bad about the pre-teen comment because he sent one of those cute awkward over-eager 'i had a great time and can't wait to see you again' texts I used to send after dates in high school. I'm really not as judgemental as I think I come across in this blog. Or perhaps I am, because now I'm even judging myself... I'm so complicated.