Don't you hate it when things you thought were saved didn't save and now you don't remember as well?
Yea, me too...and that's exactly what happened with the original version of this post. Wonderful!
So from my really bad memory, I pull the following:
Me and Drummer Boy met for a nice but brief lunch near work and spent the hour talking more than eating, laughing hysterically and making some pretty good impressions of our Nicaraguan mothers and then laughing even more. Overall, a good meet and greet.
I did revert into "Blunt Val" and just came out and asked, "So, um...how well do you play into the drummer stereotype?" Yea, lovely...I'm basically asking him if he's a player and if he intends to mess with me. He answered, "I'm NOT a drummer, I'm a percussionist!" What? What the heck is that? I barely know my instruments and now this guy wants me to know what a percussionist is?! He had to explain. Yea, whatever! A percussionist is just a glorified drummer. They get to play more instruments than the classic 5 peice drumset. In my mind, he's still a drummer boy...and I'm sticking to it because the thought of me even knowing a drummer is so out of character for me and I'm bored and want a little excitement aside from all the annoying white collar boys I've been dating lately (YAWN!!)
Sidenote, Drummer Boy has called and emailed since lunch...he seems a little goofy. Is he smitten or a freak? Only time will tell.