The Morning After.

I don't know how to say this. Don't know how to explain. All I can do is recommend you be sitting down, or at least within falling distance of a soft surface.

If you're eating something, please finish swallowing before reading what I'm about to say.

(I only have approximately two readers - it would be terribly sad for me if either of you choked to death from shock.)

Here goes.

Last night, I had a date for Valentine's Day. And it was awesome.

The fact I had a date at all for Valentine's Day is a happy accident in itself, but the date going so well I've been grinning like an idiot for 12 hours now is bordering on miraculous. Never mind the Virgin Mary appearing on a piece of toast in Arkansas - this is the real holy deal.

He didn't take his pants down. He didn't pick up the waitress. He was who he said he was and he sounded like a man and not a cartoon. He doesn't aspire to work in fast food. He wasn't wearing bells on his shoes. For those of you keeping score, I've experienced all of the above.

Instead, Darcy brought me chocolates and a card.

He carried on an intelligent conversation and was interested in everything I said.

He told me I was fascinating.

He was freaking hot.

He told me I was beautiful, and he couldn't take his eyes off me. And I really didn't see him look anywhere else, come to think of it.

He told me to open the card near the end of the night because the card was so much more true now then when he bought it. Considering this was our first time meeting - that was actually very sweet.

He asked me if he could kiss me at the end of the night and when he did I couldn't remember where I parked my car for a good five minutes.

Maybe he laid it on a little thick, but I don't care. I've been on an attention-starved diet and I needed a good helping of romantic calories. But like any time I suddently switch up my diet, I'm having some trouble with digestion.

Let's step back for a moment. Darcy and I had been chatting online for a few weeks. I wasn't expecting to ever get to meet him, since he seemed skittish about making any arrangements.

This past Monday however, Darcy asks me out for drinks on Wednesday. I was busy on Wednesday, so he asked me when I was next available. I said Thursday, honestly not thinking at all about Thursday being Valentine's Day. I'm sure he didn't think about it either.

It didn't even occur to me that I had unknowingly secured myself a Valentine's Day date until Tuesday night, and then I felt awful. I was afraid he would think I tricked him into that particular day, and I felt awful that I had inadvertently put so much pressure on this poor guy.

Not so awful that I suggested cancelling however. I'm not an idiot.

He admitted he did feel a little blindsighted by it, but was completely relieved once he saw me and we ended up laughing about it. So that's how I landed a Valentine's date by accident.

But back to my digestive issues. I'm thrilled with how the date went, but now the trouble begins. I want to see him again, naturally. He seemed certain that we would. I asked him point-blank if I would see him again and he said, "Of course."

This was just after he kissed me and I really wasn't thinking straight. In fact, if I had been pulled over on my way home I probably would have appeared drunk. It was all I could do to form a sentence, and any more definitive planning was hopeless. So we have no plans for a second date.

I would like plans. I would like an email. I would like a message of some kind. I would like it if I didn't have such a fantastic time because having no hope is actually less unnerving. I would like it if I lost the urge to grab everybody I see just to gush unintelligibly about cards and chocolates and kissing.

I would like it if I could stop grinning for two minutes.