First, I'd like to offer a clarification. The date I wrote about last Thursday WAS NOT the date I just went on this weekend. I was just expressing my uncertainty about *whether* the date I had for Friday night was actually a date, given that the word "date" never popped up in conversation. The anecdote about "Frank" was just a past experience that had taught me to be wary. Turns out that Friday night was a date, and a mighty nice one, at that.
P.S. I looked hot in my new dress. How hot? Soooooooooo hot. Once I licked my finger and touched my butt, and swear to God, my skin went tssssssssssss and smoke billowed around me. Now that's hot.