How I didn't get killed

This is the story of how my parents called the cops because they thought I had been abducted and murdered by a stranger.

In a way, the story begins at Cinco de Mayo.

In another, it begins with the efforts I made to pick myself up off the floor in the aftermath of the Pseudoboyfriend Incident of 2008--primarily, venturing out in to the magical land of online dating once again. Perhaps I should have been wary, because that's how I ended up meeting Pseudoboyfriend in the first place, and that didn't exactly leave me unscarred.

But, on the other hand, I figured that I had an entire summer before me, and I wanted adventure. I wanted to meet some new people, explore new places. Get someone to buy me lunch maybe. Nothing serious.

(Anyone who is wondering why I would try online dating instead of meeting real-life men obviously has never visited Culpeper. But I can explain if anyone would like.)

Long story short, I was really enjoying talking to this one guy about our dogs and music, when he stopped talking to me. When he came back, I realized that I'd missed him. In an entirely unSanuvial maneuver, I actually told him. (Normally, I might blog about it or something similarly passive.)

We realized then that we'd like to meet each other. But he lives in Richmond, which isn't necessarily close to Culpeper, and it was going to take some planning.

But then it was the day before Cinco de Mayo, and my friends thought I should invite him to their party. It seemed a safe bet that he wouldn't attend, since it was a Monday night and, like most people, he had to work the next day.

And then he showed up. I really liked him. My friends really liked him.

This could have turned out creepily, but we got along so well that I agreed to go visit that weekend, which coincided with Mother's Day.

I turned off my cell phone to attend a comedy club and neglected to turn it back on.

When I got home the next day, I had several very sad sounding messages from my parents, and one from my sister, explaining that my parents thought I had been killed by this marvelous man I'd just met.

They had called the cops and everything.

Over a month later, I am still not dead, and I am ridiculously content with my new boyfriend.

Maybe that stupid saying is true sometimes, and love finds you when you're not looking for it.

Happy Birthday, Tim Russert

Tim, you know there's no 58 year old network pundit that I love more deeply than you.

Congratulations on your birthday, you sexy, sexy thing.

Just so this will now be googleable: Tim Russert is sexy.

There. I said it.

There's far more interesting news than Tim's birthday (sorry, Tim), but it's going to take more time to write than I have before bedtime. So you'll just have to wait.