1. clean room (something I had wanted to do since July 16th)
2. muck out wardrobe
3. do homework (deadline: September 20th)
4. draw pencil portrait of Alex O'Loughlin (drools)
5. continue writing Tomb Raider fanfiction (currently at chapter 13)
   
6. sort out upload-worthy photos for deviantART (where the hell should I begin?)
   

Having some sort of broader small talk. Smiling and laughing. That's what we did when I met him almost half a year ago. I remember catching myself feeling a little too much at ease with him and getting a little too close to neglecting the actual reason I came to that apartment for in the first place: producing a contribution to a German TV broadcaster.

The programme I am working for can be described as a platform for more or less important yet up-to-date news in our region. As an editor (I'm a freelancer) you turn up at the editorial office early in the morning browsing all the local rags you can get hoping to spot an entry you could transform into a neat featurette of up to four minutes.

Needless to say I was extremely lucky to get my hands on an article about a 16 years old film director who happened to be currently working on his ninth movie. After a couple of phone calls with him I arranged all the formalities and organized a filming team and what else needed to be provided for. Then, that Friday in February finally came.

V. was the leading character in the little boy's movie. An actor. A man of 25 years. He arrived late, when the rest of the cast was already on the set getting ready for filming. It wasn’t that I ran out of questions with the 16-year-old or that the occasional interviews the young director gave me along our filming his filming rendered me bored. On the contrary, working with the charming boy was a real treat and much more exciting than what I had experienced with numerous protagonists I had worked with before.

Yet there was something – or rather someone – who unconsciously kept me from fully concentrating on my main job. I never would have expected to hear him say five months later that he had thought of me as “highly professional” back then.

After filming and post-producting my little project I had thought of contacting and asking him out, but then again, my thoughts of what his reaction might have been kept me from doing so. I hate my mind becoming all sissyish when it comes to men that have caught my closer attention. I am often described as rational and non-girly in my behaviour, especially when it comes to responsibility matters. Which, TV clearly is. Now how would that seem to him, I had wondered. A very young journalist expressing personal interest in his person who just would happen to be one of her working subjects. She must need it that badly. - That's what I had imagined him to think.

Nevertheless, I found his profile on a social community page on the net and let him know when the ready feature was broadcasted, for which he expressed his thanks. After that, I did what I thought the best: forget. After all, nothing had really happened so why spend time thinking about him. At first, he sometimes appeared in my dreams. But as time flew by these virtual encounters became more rare until they were no more.

***

Then, on the 23^rd of June, while doing my daily workout in the evening I couldn’t believe my eyes when I happened to watch the first episode of the CBS series “Moonlight” on German television. Watching Alex O’Loughlin play the role of Mick St. John was like looking at V.’s seven years older brother.

The next day, I dropped him a line.

And last week, he asked me out in a rather cheeky way that reinforced my opinion about him. Yet I was dreading the date.

The truth is, when it comes to dating I tend to be a little complicated. At least that’s what I conclude when I observe the reactions of my dates: I talk and laugh and smile conveying the impression of feeling well in their company – which usually also is the case. I enjoy meeting different people. Though, when undergoing the whole dating procedure I don't expect much to turn out at the end of the day. Talk about bad dates. If there is one thing that drives me mad then it is receiving tons of messages on my mobile only a couple of hours after saying goodbye. It really does. So, what I am trying to say is that when I remain nice and friendly it doesn't mean that I have hopelessly fallen in love or any of such romantic rubbish, yadda, yadda, pancakes. If you know which buttons to push you can get me enthusiastic about something in less than a minute. Too bad that I happen to loose interest in those things about just as fast.

My date with V. has been different. He spontaneously took me for a stroll along the Main river instead of inviting me to a closed café or bar. Talking to him seemed so natural, as though we had known each other for ages. I relished the warm feeling that I experienced when his hand casually, occasionally brushed my skin – something that usually makes me cringe on the inside and maintain a certain distance.

Together, we walked across my favourite pedestrian bridge that connects the museum quay with the financial district of the city. In the middle of it we stopped and enjoyed the contrast of the hot burning summer sun with the cool gentle breeze that stirred from the river. It was then when I came to realize that I usually walked on this bridge alone and that the only person I had crossed it together with before had been my ex.

Am I in love? I don’t know him well enough to give an appropriate answer to that. Recently, I also found the display of my mobile phone to be more interesting than it has been in years. I am not one of these girls who are unable to live their lives without somebody by their side. I hardly know this way of living. So here and now, about two weeks past my 22nd birthday I am given the taste of a feeling completely new and never experienced before. It came in a flash, staggering me and leaving me longing for more.

His more or less veiled statements as well as his body language seemed to assure me that he had enjoyed my company. Still, my overly rational and pessimistic mind is desperately trying to make me believe that I am giving way too much thought about him and his ways. He is an actor, after all.