Here's a fairly good sign you're not handling the whole virginity thing too well: I'm at Mass the other day, and I'm kind of checking out the priest going, "Not bad, not bad." I'm not particularly shopping around right now, because 1) I'm tired and 2) I have this feeling that God is saving me up for somebody really, really spectacular who is going to drop into my life when I least expect it. He's this, like, astronaut/billionaire/duke/rockstar who finds my lack of control over my own hair endearing and understands why it's so important for a model lightsaber to have the proper heft. We're going to make each other laugh while we're mucking stalls or having dinner at the White House. He is going to be awesome, and I will gently hold his heart like the miracle it is.
November 20, 2003