What happened this past week? Did one of you put my name up on some kind of international dating board or something? As of this time two weeks ago, I was practically invisible to the opposite sex. I hadn’t gone on a date in ages, hadn’t really been asked. Everywhere I went, people thought I was 15 or 16 years old. Now, ignoring the fact that no 15 year old I’ve ever met is shaped like me, what happened? Suddenly I find myself drowning in the rain of men – everywhere I turn, I meet another one, yet another bloke is telling me I’m gorgeous or awesome or amazing or whatever. Frankly, I’m a little wary. Why now? What happened? Why me? Two weeks ago, I looked like jail bait. Now, ta da, I’m attracting them like moths to a lightbulb.

Not that I’m complaining – at Wegman’s tonight, the check-out guy said I looked “amazing”. On Thursday, I got to go on a fabulous Washingtonian date with a charming fellow. He took me to my very first symphony, the National Symphony Orchestra at the Kennedy Center no less. It was spectacular! Siegfried Idyll, some American symphony I forgot the name of by John Corigliano, and Dvorak’s 7th. I’ve decided that the symphony should be my usual “thing.” It was so inspirational. As my date said, “It was as if I’d eaten Big Macs for ages, and now that I’m presented with a big thick steak, I finally realize what I was missing!”

The only stinky thing about this rain of men is that the weather front is very widespread. Very, very widespread. I’m talking coast to coast, spanning borders widespread. *sigh* Why are so many of them so far away? It really limits a girl’s social options, you know. At least I know I’ll be traveling quite a bit after the holidays. That’s at least mildly reassuring.

To abruptly change the subject, I rode in my first Ferrari today. I have decided that it is an absolutely inexcusable sin to dent, scratch, or mistreat a Ferrari. Such a work of art should be treated like one of your own children – abuse it, and it’s criminal. I went out to Leesburg with my Dad to check out a 1985 Mondial. For some reason I thought it’d be nostalgic and cute for my very first Ferrari to be the same age as me. After riding in one, the nostalgia wore off. Granted, it was a slightly mistreated Ferrari being driven through the pouring rain, so I’m sure I didn’t give it much of a fighting chance, but I’d honestly much rather have that 2002 360 Modena for sale at Ferrari of Washington, or a brand new F430. I got drenched even though the top was up, my Dad had to wrestle with the gears (which is why I wasn’t driving – my feet didn’t feel up to messing with a clutch), and there were dings and dents all over the place. Even the Ferrari logo on the back end was crooked. It seemed sad and dejected, its big headlines giving me the sad puppy look. I wanted to take proper care of it, repair its dents, redo its interior… but that piteous feeling couldn’t overcome the $27k pricetag.

Ferraris are beautiful, I’ve driven a Maserati with a Ferrari engine and wooooooo, that was nice. But I’m totally over the Magnum PI kick of having a Ferrari from the 80’s. I think I prefer the luxury of modern interiors. Oh, and that lovely paddle-shifting option. Mmm, manual without the clutch. It seems as if it was designed just for me…