Off and on.

It's been an interesting weekend.

Friday night, against my better judgment, I went out with Mr. I Want You To Want Me. He had texted me earlier in the week, telling me all about his new favorite TV show, More to Love. It's basically The Bachelor for plus-sized people. I think this is fine, and a pleasant change from all the size-2 dating shows - except it's incredibly exploitive to list a woman's height and weight along with her name every time she's on camera.

Turns out, Mr. I Want You To Want Me has a thing for women who are a bit larger. He wanted to take me to the art museum and then? Out for pancakes. Evidently, being a size 6 just doesn't quite cut it.

Again, I found myself wishing I was headed to Target instead of headed out for the evening. But I donned a cute dress with polka-dot shoes and off we went to the art museum. As we were walking in, we passed a quartet with a snooty air about them. And in the midst of this quartet? Ex-Ex.

He waived at me. I waived at him and kept walking. Mr. I Want You To Want Me was shocked that THAT was Ex-Ex. My date just kept saying, "I can't believe you went out with that guy. What a pretentious ass! You aren't like that at all! I can't believe you went out with him."

Which I decided to take as a compliment.

So, score one for Mr. I Want You To Want Me. But he lost all his points and street cred later when - after lots of wine on his part - he kissed me ... in sort of a dental death vice. I could feel his teeth smooshing up against mine. Not sexy. Then he pulled my hair and bit my lip. When I protested, he was all, "You don't like that? You're missing out."

And ... exit Cha Cha, stage right.

I know. I can't believe I'm here, either.

But Saturday night, I went out with Mr. Guy With Two Dogs, which cleansed my palate significantly. He's so nice. And he's so funny. And he blasted Journey from his Jeep stereo so that we could sing at the top of our lungs while driving down the interstate with the top down, pretending we sound just as good as - nay, better than - Steve Perry. And I can almost forgive him for hardly kissing me at all despite the fact that my boobs were pretty much falling out of my dress. Not on purpose, just ... well, they're hard to control sometimes.

Today? Today I read an entire book from cover to cover - all 404 pages of the excellent The Last Time I Was Me. I should have cleaned my house, or done something about the disaster area that is my office, or even worked. I'm so tired. I'm tired of working. And so? I lounged about and read. And it was grand. And now, I feel like I might be able to face Corporate Behemoth tomorrow without sobbing hysterically upon entering the parking garage at the start of another week.

Because it's good to have goals.