UnGerman has a name. And I know what it is.

Yes, that's right: I spoke to the elusive UnGerman, or 'Dave', as he goes by, at church this Sunday. He sat right behind me, and it was because of another friend sitting nearby that we even started talking at all. She introduced us. The convo was short and sweet, but it officially removes me from 'stalker' status. I do not stalk UnGerman because I have had actual contact with him. I may still be a stalker of others, but UnGerman is off the list!

The mystery is unraveling. My fear is that the reality of him will not live up to my imagination, but that is usually the case. I shouldn't be surprised. I guess I could have asked him right there in Sunday school and dissolved the mystery.

UnGerman: Is your sweater wool?

Me: Why, yes. I think it is. And are those funky glasses German? Or at least Canadian? Are you a spy? Just who are you?

I didn't though. The conversation was actually much less provocative than that, although together we did discover that my sweater was indeed made of wool. I also wonder if UnGerman has somehow found my diaryland URL and spies on me here. My friend Ms. Kitty thinks he knows we're on to him. Perhaps this is the last thing I will ever write before UnGerman takes me out (of comission that is, not on a date; in case you were confused)...

You know, it's funny, because I used to leave all the juicy details of the guys I liked out of my journal, in case they ever read it, but now I know better. Ha! Read my journal; I'm lucky if the guys I like get close enough to even speak to me, let alone date, or exchange journals, or something cheesy like that. I'm such a loser! So now I insert all my embarrassing schoolgirl thoughts without a care. Even more ironic is the fact that I write my diary entries here knowing that at least a couple of people will read it. That's a strange thought worth thinking about.

The current song playing on my life soundtrack is: Let It Be Me, Indigo Girls

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