Saturday, I got together with Meghan. We had already agreed that it should be "just for coffee," both acknowledging that it would give us an excuse to bail if the date went bad.

I'll skip over that particular part. It went great. We got along just fine, and that wasn't much of a surprise. She's a professional photographer as well as a makeup artist for TV or movies (when there's work). She's American, but she spent several years in Melbourne, Australia -- probably where she got some of her no-nonsense attitude -- and she speaks three languages (English, Spanish, and some German).

We left the coffee shop after two hours, then went up the mountain for some sightseeing. The view was great (and I'm not JUST talking about the landscape, folks). She pulled out a bottle of hard liquor from her backpack (whiskey or rum, or something like that), and had a few drinks. Then, I suggested we hunt down the couples making out in the bushes to photograph them in the act.

Folks, some people take their lovemaking pretty seriously. At any rate, the guy in the fourth couple got so upset that he gave us chase and even threw rocks at us. He had lousy aim, but we decided not to stick around and raced away.

Meg and I had a good enough time that we decided to spend the night together at my place. We dined. We watched some old movies (Vincent Prince's "Last Man on Earth" and "Show Boat"). Then I'm not too sure what took over the both of us, but we couldn't keep our hands off each other. I don't think I've gotten this excited about someone in such a long time.

I think we both passed out around 4:30 AM.

When I woke up, around noon, she was gone. There was a thank you note (no details, sorry -- it's PERSONAL) and some reference to "next time."

Lucky me. 🙂