dating chronicles 3: scarlet billows

The guides said the sharks ate only plankton and minnows. But somehow I ended up on the appetizers list last night.

Shark diving is like bungee jumping - you do it for a rush of fear that will not actually hurt you, unless you are the statistical sucker whose last words are 'is this thing supposed to be done up like this?'. The truth is that there is real danger. I know.

Needless to say, I was looking forward to the palm wine and donuts portion of the evening by the time I swam away, hammerheads sniffing after the trail of my blood.

The Date sustained a few wounds of his own, but remained gracious and jovial throughout. My, my.

The blood and icing sugar all washed off. The doubt lingers. Maybe I'm just not accustomed to feelings; detached observation has been my territory for so long.

Shivers! It's fucking scary.