So we are. Officially, at least, we guess so.

Good enough. Having the DTR talk is frickin nerve wrecking. Ah, nerves.

I miss Dunkin' Donuts. And chicken fingers. And buffalo wings with blue cheese. And cheese steaks with onions and hot peppers and mushrooms. It's a wonder I wasn't twice my size while growing up. It's high time I saw the folks and the bro. Los Angeles truly is la-la land. People are weird here. You know what I mean. Time to get out of town.

Fiscal Responsibility
So I bought my fourth pair of jeans within a month span. I've got to stop. These are not times to be fiscally irresponsible. The last pair of jeans were - well, I had a gift card. And they were 30% off. Ahh. Working-middle-class-upbringing-guilt-in-times-of-economic-crisis. But then I had three pairs of jeans altered. Why can't petite sizes be all around? Not all of us are 5'7". Venga, hombre!

COTW

Guys who are attentive. As in, not wrapped up in the chic flakiness of LA which has permeated through the air with the smog into everyone's lungs. If you do what you say you were going to do, it's refreshing (sadly). So, in conclusion, don't be sorry, just do what you say you're going to do.

Tasting menus. Unnecessary, but a nice touch.

Being able to conclude that we are, in fact, officially dating. I mean, we guess so.