Baby steps

Thursday night out on the town before the long Easter weekend. For the first time in my life, I gave my number out to a stranger, a guy I'd met and danced with at the club. Today, we had a three-hour coffee (orange juice for me), and for the first time in my life, I managed to avoid disaster—in other words, I managed to avoid:
1) bringing up/even mentioning The Ex,
2) talking about other guys
3) declaring in some shape or form that I either i) hate men, ii) hate kids, iii) hate marriage
I kept my defensive instincts in check, and, with some help, stopped hyperventilating and managed to stop persuading myself with a thousand and one reasons why the whole thing (him, taking this forward) is a bad idea.
I feel like I should win the Nobel Prize or something.
If nothing else comes of it, I'd have made a good first step in rehabilitating myself.