Frozen yogurt and record stores

Another thing I mentioned I’ve been meaning to write about is Kevin, my new favorite person in Chicago. Our first date was in mid-June at Rib Fest, and before you roll your eyes, you should know that was my idea. Commence eye rolling.

Back in February, we started our jobs the same day, and I remember seeing him at our 100+ person orientation and thinking he was really cute. We saw each other a few times at work after that and talked, and then one day we got assigned to a project together and kind of hit it off.

It’s been nice spending time getting to know someone by letting him show me his favorite places in Chicago. He’s been here two years now and knows all kinds of fun little restaurants and shops in different neighborhoods. We’ve taken to touring record stores in Lincoln Park on weekends or running around Andersonville for an afternoon — sometimes meeting up with his friends, sometimes just the two of us. He doesn’t seem to mind going with me and my friends to our Friday night bar and I don’t mind spending time in his fun neighborhood. We both love going to the movies and neither is above spending a lazy Sunday on a double feature. He’s sweet and considerate and remembers things I tell him, or things about me like how I hate french fries but love mashed potatoes, or how I don’t like ice cream but am currently obsessed with frozen yogurt. He’s good at explaining things and is a wealth of information, Chicago-related and otherwise.

He’s also very thoughtful; Last weekend, we were in a bookstore in his neighborhood picking up the next selections for our respective book clubs (he’s in a book club, too — I kind of love that) when I mentioned I’d been meaning to pick up a copy of “Bossypants”. A quick scan of the biography section didn’t render any results so I gave up and checked out at the register. He followed me outside a few minutes later and said he had a surprise. He pulled the book out of his bag and handed it to me.

“I was going to wait,” he admitted.

It was sweet.

One day after work we were walking up some steps toward the Brown Line when my flip flop came off mid step. He stooped down and grabbed it and placed it delicately back on my foot, Cinderella-style, if Cinderella was dumb enough to wear open, rubber shoes in a major metropolitan area.

My roommates like him and he just joined our fantasy football league, after which Christina told me I better not break up with him any time in the next 14 weeks or it’ll just mess up everything.

So far, so good. Come visit me in Chicago and maybe you’ll get to meet him.

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One thought on “Frozen yogurt and record stores

  1. I still don’t understand how you don’t like French fries and ice cream…
    I’m so happy you’re happy. 🙂

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