Dear Diary

Since last we spoke, I've worked much too much at the business I own and struggled with a piece I'm trying to write on how difficult it was for me to tell the Truth or Lie story because it involved saying that I am beautiful.

ALERT: bad body image story. Straight ahead.

But not this morning. This morning I must work at my business again.

And I must contemplate all the reasons I should not fall in love with the man I went out with last night. He is hardsome (looks like Nick Nolte might if he hadn't lived such a dissolute life). Moreover, he is smart and funny and charming. He's kind to wait staff--even when they make mistakes or leave him waiting far too long. He asks interesting questions and truly listens to the answers. He has a sense of adventure and a conscience about the planet and how he uses its resources.

AND he is the sexiest man I've met since my divorce attorney.

This could be such big trouble that I can't begin to describe it.

How do I know?

From about 30 minutes into our adventure last night (our second date), I could hear Tom Waits in my head, singing, "I Hope that I Don't Fall in Love with You."

That can not be good, people. It can not be good.

Much more later.