it must be a Gaugin, it's got mango in it

Today I had lunch with Spirit. It was the first time we'd actually met in person, and as delightful as it was, it was also quite strange for both of us. Brave new world and all that. You see, he'd noticed me on Friendster, but I was all booked up with my wacky life and wasn't doing a good job of responding. Finally, in what I admit was probably a bid to frighten him, I sent him here.

I guess he doesn't frighten easy. He read, and kept reading; and still wanted to meet me in all my flesh-and-blood glory. So today we found ourselves in a situation where we're meeting in person, over crepes inexplicably named after artists, and he knows a great deal about me, and I next to nothing about him.

And the first thing we talk about is blogging, and why someone blogs, and whether my motivation is changing over time. He's raising all these interesting questions that I want to talk about here, and suddenly the whole situation has gone so meta that I just want to lie down on the floor until the dizziness passes. I seriously consider it, but I might get run over by a waiter, and how would that look? Bad enough I once showed up for a first date in a police car. I don't want to be like the fork-in-the-head woman. So I keep my head up and we keep talking and make lists of movies the other Needs To See, admire another diner's nicely-done purple hair, and discuss the wisdom of showing children how to make big explosions.

On and off, I'm thinking, is he wondering if/how this is going to show up in my blog?

I'm also thinking, do I seem smaller in person?