This evening has been swell
A first date in New York
You asked the proper questions

You used the proper fork
You looked into my eyes
You were calm, polite, composed

You even bypassed my pet peeve
And chewed with you mouth closed
We paid the check, you walked me home

A sweet kiss at my door
And then came the big question
Would I like to see you more?

Well....

I shouldn't make a date without my book in front of me

'Cus I'm always double booking which could cause catastrophe
And although it's never personal just merely oversight
I've ticked off many friends and with my mother had a fight

About my irresponsibility and how it's downright rude
To be so absent-minded and show such ingratitude
As to not remember who and when and where I said I'd be

But my mother is impossible and somehow doesn't see
That it's simply lack of focus or there's too much on my mind
So that little things like names and dates get somehow left behind

In some file I cannot access in some corner of my brain
But I didn't mean to bring mom up or stand here and complain
For the simple point I'm trying to make despite the time it took

Is that I really can't do anything without my friggin' book

And I guess that we would be remiss to not pay some attention

To the simple fact that both of us are busy did I mention
I take a class in pottery and practical philosophy
Which mother finds indulgent

But it's just my curiosity
About the world around me
So that means without a doubt

That Tuesday nights and Friday afternoons are simply out
And I'm sure you have your conflicts and appointments you must keep
And then there's all the little things like laundry foor and sleep

Not to say that it's impossible or far from insurmountable
It's just that as two grown-ups we must always be accountable
For all the little details and demands upon our time

Which can sometimes see ridiculous and make un uphill climb
Of our day to day exsistence like a race that can't be won
And all but just eliminate the time for any fun


And I probably should mention
Although maybe it's too soon

That I tend to be a little shy and hide in my cocoon
I really am the quiet type and what you call old fashioned
For my physical affection for the one I date is rationed out

In small amounts and overtime it takes awhile to bloom
And moving on to second base takes months so don't $$#ume
That the speed of my libido has a thing to do with you

It's really just some Catholic crap that I'm still working through

And then there is a question which is open for debate

Of whether I'm in any frame of mind to even date
I mean is it too soon after the last misadventure
To put myself through that kind of $$#orted mess again

Sure, they say that time is healing and I truly feel of course
When one falls off the best advice is jump back on the horse
But the wounds are deep and slow to heal and even though I've tried

I sometimes feel I'm meant to be the bridesmaid not the bride
Omigod I must be swimming in some red wine sort of haze
I'm resorting down to metaphors and tired old cliches

You really must forgive me for it's far from illustrative
Of the normal sort of gal I am who's smart and so creative
This ramblings got to cease for I know you must be weary

Of this seemingly ridiculous avoidance of your quiery

So, I guess the simple truth

Which defies all comprehension
Is there was a quicker path to take
Then this prolonged invention

When you asked me for another date
It caused me to digress
I should've gotten to the point
And simply answered..."No"