It totally wasn't a date.

Octave is an old friend of mine, and we went out on friday night.

It totally wasn't a date.
I had an absolutely great time. I can say with absolute certainty that it was the best time I'd had in 6 months, but I can't actually recall anything more than 6 months ago, so it's possible that it was the most fun I've had ever.
We drove into the heart of LA for Peach Cobbler and Grilled Cheese, all the while singing songs we knew from her iPod. The device was powered by a plastic arm, plugged into her car's cigarette lighter, and it used an FM modulator to broadcast to her stereo. It worked suprisingly well. Unless the car turned. under these specific circumstances, the arm tipped and unplugged. Power was replaced with not-power, and and then Simon and Garfunkle were replaced with horror.

Let me reiterate, it was not a date.
We played a few games of Carcassonne, which she learned very fast, all the while enjoying various culinary artifacts from Swingers, the hippest diner on the Central West Side.

We left at 10, but Octave still had some fight in her, so we decided to watch a sing-a-long movie. Oh Brother, Where art Thou. George Clooney's finest role. It was excellent. Better than excellent. A damn near perfect cap for a damn good evening.
At opposite ends of my full length couch, we sang wholeheartedly to the words we could remember, while making up words to the parts we forgot. The entire evening failed to be even the slightest bit awkward, as the geographical distance between us stood as a banner to remind all who might be near, "This is totally not a date." At some point in the movie, we popped each other's toes. Still, It totally wasn't a date.

Friday night reminded me that maybe I'm taking this whole dating thing too seriously. Not like it was a date. Dating is not a job interview. Maybe just because a girl doesn't understand how dangerous the living dead are... maybe she can be pleasant company besides.