On Dating: Why the Hell I'm Doing It This Way

If you think I'm crazy for dating a bunch of guys at once, telling them all that they're not the only iron in the fire, you're not the only one. It's true, there have been some doozies (some I haven't written about) but it's also true that I've been deliciously surprised--which I also haven't written about. Yet. So while this plan may not work for everyone, let me assure you: it's working for me.

See, I believe I've had the wrong assumptions all these years. I think I've been scared and knee-jerky (both in ditching men and in getting too seriously involved too soon). There's nothing like dating a whole handful at once to slow things the heck down!

I have no expectations, and it's wonderfully freeing. I take that back--I only expect to be treated respectfully and honestly. Outside of that, bring it on!

I'm currently dating two guys who are amazing--they've completely surprised me with how genuine, interesting, lovely, masculine they are. Did they perk my ears right away? No. But over time (two months for one, about one month for the other), I've started to really like them--even become attracted to them. The guys? Heli and Android.

What happened to TallGuy and Sailor? About 3 weeks ago on the day before our anticipated second date, TallGuy texted me to apologize and say he just wasn't ready to date. Disappointing, yes, but it is what it is and I only had a small pout. Sailor contacted me similarly the day before a very, very, very much anticipated date (sailing on the bay, dinner, the whole deal) to say he just was too busy to go out. It's true that he was picking up and moving household, so I do completely buy it--but I also believed (and time has proven) that he just wasn't keen on seeing me. This was really, really disappointing.

But if there is one thing I've learned it's that you can't make someone feel what they don't. It could just be a factor of time (not enough of it, different head spaces, whathaveyou), but the best thing to do is give yourself a shake (and if the disappointment is great, treat yourself to something nice--I took myself on a little weekend getaway) and move on.

And I have moved on. Heli and I are seeing each other a couple of times a week, and I've grown incredibly attracted to him. I see Android about once a week and like him more each time I see him.

So what's my deal? Is this some sort of polyamorous thing I've got going on here? Not at all. I'm just not in the place where I can dive right into an exclusive relationship. These guys know it. If they aren't OK with it, they can move on, but for now, I'm really enjoying getting to know them, and I believe it's entirely possible that I could fall in love with either of them.

That said, I'm still online and still willing to meet someone else.

Tonight my manicurist said that I should just have fun and not worry about finding The One. When it's right, I'll know it, and I won't have to force it. I agree.

Next time: A date shares with me (over a taco dinner) that he's getting a vasectomy the next day. (Honest to God.) Stay tuned.

Back in the Dating Saddle

So--let's skip past all the heartbreak. Basically, it all came to a head in late October/early November and I ended it. I immediately felt free, and have felt free since. Leaving Mac was hard, but it was the right decision--that's the stark truth of it.

Anyway, as I told Loverville a couple weeks ago (has it been that long already? time zips by these days): I joined Match. I blame Martha Stewart, because though she is of quite another generation, her joining Match put the idea in my head. Reader, I signed up.

So it's been two weeks, and so far it's been easier and more pleasant than any of my previous online dating experiences. Why? I just don't care--which, I suppose, defeats the purpose ever so slightly.

I've had a zillion guys view me--especially when I first signed up. I was low-hanging fruit and got tons of winks and one-liner chats/emails. My hair looks especially blonde in one of the photos, and I suspect this has something to do with it. (Also, c.f. "low-hanging fruit") That initial onslaught has fallen off significantly since I started. I haven't actively pursued (or, that is, emailed) anyone. I can't be bothered.

• I indicated interest to one guy who responded with an email--but turned out to be as interesting as a stack of bricks. (To be fair, I think the feeling was mutual.) I didn't respond after the second exchange.
• Another guy called me "sweetie" in his first email (which seemed very used car salesman to me, in the context) and I ignored him for a long while until he pinged me back. I emailed him, but I was bored, and he was bored--plus he called me sweetie again. I'm not going to bother.
• One of my winks game from a guy who had the handle "TattsNBeard." Sure enough--scads of tattoos and a powerful beard. I, endeavoring to keep an open mind, read his profile to find an articulate guy--and then I saw the pic of the tear tattooed at the corner of his eye. So much for open-mindedness!
• One guy favorite me, then winked at me, then--a few days later--sent me an email. I decided to go out with him.

We went out a couple weeks ago, and hit it off--hit it off in that we got along great and had an interesting first hour or so. See, I meant to keep the date to an hour, but we had two glasses of wine, and being in the wine country, it's not like you can nip into a cab and get safely home. We had to eat something, and so spent nearly 3.5 hours together, which just killed it. I don't even care, not a bit--but it is an odd phenomenon to get along with someone so well and then think to yourself, "Eh."

There have been other glancing tales to add to the above--mostly along the lines of the wistful older men wishing that my age range didn't end at 44. (I've been dating men who are 10+ years older than me for the last 6 years. I feel I need to dial that back a bit--not that I wouldn't date an older man again.)

I got a promising email a couple of days ago from a guy who shares one of my life-long interests: writing. In his pictures, he looks moody and overly intellectual. (So many guys make this mistake--shadowy, serious pictures, which I imagine they think makes them look sexy, when in reality it makes them look like criminals.) But his profile is interesting, and I'm keen on making contacts in this sphere, even if Twu Wuve isn't the end result. (Can you tell I have a thing for Princess Bride?) I think we're getting together Monday.

And tonight I met a guy in real life--such a rare thing. He was a bartender at a restaurant and took a shine to me the moment I landed. I know … bartenders! He gave me his card on the ruse of trading wine--he's starting a full-time job at a winery in the next couple of weeks (so no more bar tending). I checked out the wineries he works for--and it'll have to be 3-4 bottles of his wine to one of mine, but … I don't think this is really about wine.

I'm not exactly sure what the next step is. I guess I text him? I kind of just want to do it now, and not wait out some silly time period. Because, honestly, I'm over The Game. And odds are this one won't be Twu Wuve either.

And I'm fine with it. If I could be in my 30s forever, I think I would be perfectly happy with the occasional romance and an independent life. But I'll age, and I'm thinking that there's a comfort to companionship later in life. (More and more, though, I find that I crave a relationship that allows for two whole individuals--none of this melding stuff. More on this later--in 10 years, I'll probably have an entirely different view.)

Engaged--What The Heck?

If you've read any of the previous entries, you are probably wondering why the heck I agreed to marry Mac. It's a valid question; I wonder the same thing now, now that I'm out of the woods.

A week before he asked me to marry him we had a Big Discussion. Our first Big Discussion--and that it was our first such talk is completely my fault. This must have been early March 2012. I remember apologizing to him and telling him that I was only just realizing how serious he was about marriage. (False: according to this record alone, I was pretty sure he was on the marriage track in the fall of '11.) I explained that it takes me awhile to realize what I feel or think about a situation, and that he may have seen my gentle silence as encouragement where I was really only thinking about everything.

I know I brought up my concerns about his finances and job situation; I may have mentioned the whole sex thing, too. I told him we were not ready to get married. Mac reacted fairly well, I think--especially given later Big Discussions. He just said, "Well, this changes my plans …"

Ever the romantic, he couldn't see that my concerns were valid and important, and not the ravings of an anxiety-ridden chica.

I innocently thought that we were on the same page after this heartfelt talk--back to a more casual form of being, no marriage in the future.

A week later we were celebrating our one-year anniversary at a nice N____ V_____ restaurant. (And, by the way, I know you can decipher the location of the restaurant; I just don't want search bots to figure it out. This might be one of the few blogs that doesn't want to optimize for SEO!) We'd taken a cab, so indulged in cocktails and then a bottle of wine and a fabulous meal. Halfway through, suddenly I find a tiny, heart-shaped box in my hand. The tables that flanked us left and right were very close and therefore very aware of what was happening. It was loud; I was drunk. This was not the intimate proposal I had imagined.

But I loved him, despite our problems, despite the less-than-ideal atmosphere.

I said yes.

Foolishly, but perhaps predictably. I understand now (and I thought I did before) that love isn't enough. And I probably didn't truly love him, anyway--I know I didn't.

I couldn't sleep that night, spinning the vintage eternity band on my finger and wondering what I had agreed to and whether I had made a mistake.

You meet a man who can make you laugh, who is so helpful and considerate, who has a great personality and is cute, and you think, "Why not?" Well, there are reasons why not.

I didn't feel safe or supported, and though to this day he swears he loves me, I don't think he really does.

Since my last confession

Hello there.

I've committed the cardinal blogging sin: I disappeared without a word of explanation. So I'll explain now: it was all too much.

And that isn't a proper explanation, I realize. Aren't the best blogs the ones that are wrought? Well, I was wrought, my friends. (All three of you, if you're still out there.) Instead of spending hundreds (thousands?) of dollars on therapy--dollars I had a hard time coming by, since Mac wasn't exactly able to help--I should have written it out here. I may have arrived at the same conclusion sooner and less expensively.

Since November 11, 2011, the following things have transpired:

• Mac asked me to marry him; I said yes
• I knew immediately that it was a mistake
• I agonized; he basically called me crazy and said I needed to be on anti-anxiety meds
• Therapists (and psychiatrist) disagreed--thought my anxiety was incident/issue specific
• We broke up on November 2, 2012
• I was happy! And have been since the day we broke up, but recently that happiness was compounded when …
• I realized Sunday--fully realized--that despite all of his good characteristics, Mac is something of a shit. I refused to see it before. 

Friends, I'm getting ready to date again. Part of the preparation involves getting in shape (I gained probably 15 lbs during all of this drama); part of it involves fully understanding what happened so I won't repeat the same (same same same) mistakes (there's a dreadful pattern here)--and that's where this blog comes in. 

I'm going to revisit some of these key moments: the engagement, various fights/discussions, the breakup, the final realization. It should just take a few blog posts (four at the most), and they may come in rapid succession.

I'm ready to make a change, inside and out. 

Disregard Previous

I should know better than to post while stressed. Last week was a grueling work week and the agitation and frustration seeped into every party of my life but focused (increasingly) on Mac. And do you know what? The moment he walked through the door Saturday it all melted away.

It's true, I need to keep all these things (mentioned in the previous post) in mind, but I also need to rein in my tendencies to obsess and overthink and tiptoe to the dark side. There are things to work through, sure, but that doesn't mean we're done for. I do love him. Muchly.

Must employ the weapons in my power (communication, patience, de-stressing) and proceed. This is real, and reality has it's hiccups.

We just celebrated 8 months. At 9 months, it'll be a record for me. (Yes, if the fact that I've ended all my relationships till now well before the 9-month mark doesn't tell you something ... )

Magnifying Glass

Have you noticed when reading a biography (book, article, Wikipedia) that the person's choice of mate is reveals certain key traits? I'm thinking of American literary greats at the moment--Hemmingway, Fitzgerald, Steinbeck, etc, etc. Their choice in wives and lovers said a lot about their characters. Have you ever wondered what your choices in significant others say about you?

Does that thought grip you as it does me?

We often talk about "our types" and I readily admit that I am attracted to a certain kind of man, but until tonight, I hadn't thought about what this long line of men says about me and my flaws. What am I not seeing about myself that a biographer would easily expose through my choice in partner?

Heavy thoughts for a Friday night.

I left you dangling after the last post. There's no ring on my finger, but Mac has talked plenty of marriage. Most of the time I am very happy: he is incredibly funny, he is attentive and exceedingly helpful, he wants me to be happy, he's great at home improvement! But last night, when talking to my mom (who I hadn't seen in months), she asked me where I thought we were headed, and I said, "We'll probably get married." And as soon as I said it, I realized that I am just not ready yet--the concept, while a happy one (or is it?), stresses me out. Marriage is such a huge thing--I am in a better financial position than he is (though not able to support another person entirely), why get married?

I realize you've missed all the in between stuff--last entry, I was over the moon and this entry I'm gunshy. I must seem crazy, but remember--some time has passed.

I need to tell him I'm not ready, and he may ask if I'll ever be ready and I'll have to say that I don't know. I don't want to break up; I just want the pressure lessened. He is a true sweetheart and any girl would be lucky ...

I read this in the transcript of Carolyn Hax's live chat today (love her advice, btw--wish I had found her years ago):

Q.

"WHEN IT'S RIGHT"

First, thank you for your consistently sound advice. I find myself curious about your perspective on determining when a relationship is right for the long term. How do you know? Is it when you stop asking the question? Or when you fall into a stable pattern? I've been in a relationship for nearly 3 years and find myself struggling to determine the criteria by which to judge whether this relationship will be right for me for the long term.

• –
  November 11, 2011 2:12 PM
• Permalink

A.

CAROLYN HAX :

I think it's when you really like the version of you that the relationship brings out, and when it's a version that's easy for you to maintain. And when you're no less happy to see the person walk in the room than you were at the beginning.

Thanks for the kind words.

– November 11, 2011 2:29 PM

Do you think she's right? I am inclined to agree with her, and when I first read it, I had a sinking feeling ... But then I also think that if Mac will give me time and not pressure me, I may come around.

That's the essence of it, so if you want to stop reading there, you have my permission. (you're welcome!) Here are what I see as complications to lifelong bliss--and notice that I am focusing on his faults, not mine, so this is entirely unfair:

1. He freelances--I've mentioned the financial issues before, but the freelance work brings up another issue: he has a lot of time on his hands--time spent alone. He thinks about me, misses me, wants to see me as soon as possible. Nothing wrong there, right? I, on the other hand, work in a busy office environment 9 hours a day. I'm multitasking, making decisions, fielding problems and solving them; I'm trying to stay on top of my work load and drive initiatives instead of reacting all the time to whatever bounces my way. I don't have time to miss or pine or think about him, and at the end of the day, I want to be on my own. We've worked this out (mostly) so that I see him on weekends and we spend one night together during the work week.

2. Yes, the finances. Those things again. I've told him that I won't move in with him (much less marry him) with a certain financial tangle hanging over his head. But it's a bigger issue than that: I don't know that I want to live with someone who doesn't know how to live within his means! Even if he were wealthy, it would stress me out if he didn't budget, save and plan.

3. I'm definitely a more literary/intellectual type. Do I need someone who keeps up with me? Not necessarily--I haven't found my male equivalent yet (who wasn't an ass), so ... No, maybe I don't need this.

4. Libido disparity. Another big one. He and I have talked this one to death. He would happily have sex every day, while I could compromise and have it once a week. (intercourse, with maybe some other fun activity--one that's quicker and requires less energy) I know--so unsexy! But it's true--I just don't have a big desire for sex (and do I envy you minxes out there!). This is a problem. He certainly deserves more, but we're caught here--I resent his implications that there's something wrong with me that needs to be fixed. (He hasn't said spelled it out quite like that.) There's a wide range of normal--why can't my level be normal and why do I have to be the one to try all manner of potions to get it "fixed"? (note: I have not sprung for this yet) Under it all, I do worry: am I not attracted to him? Are the other problems enough to quell a fragile and sensitive sex drive?

I think this all could be enough to doom a relationship. But could I still make it work anyway? It's different these days--women don't need men to put roofs over their heads. Do I want to be the one to put a roof over a man's head? I tell myself maybe, if I made twice as much, but maybe even then I would resent it.

I want to build something with someone. I don't want to be the provider, and I don't want kept. Are these things too much to ask and by asking these questions am I risking losing something truly great?

The Missing Ring

Summer passed so quickly--a whirlwind. My friends have recently accused me of being a social butterfly (me? The Introvert?)--usually in slightly hurt tones, as if I haven't been attentive enough. It's true, in previous incarnations, I was available at a hat's drop--movie? drink? Sure! But now, my weeks must be planned out well in advance. It's not just Mac, it's everything: exercise, therapy (yes, I started that up--I know some of you are thinking, Finally!), Me Time, the many varied friends ... And Mac gets precedence with weekends and at least one week night devoted to him.

Well, I decided I needed to carve out some precious time for you dear people--mostly anonymous, but no less appreciated. I decided this about 10 minutes ago as I was loading dishes in the dishwasher. I decided I would write about how I was really happy with Mac, never mind our challenges and faults. I would say that we were six months in and in love and that, finally, I am with someone I can marry. And I thought I'd tell you all how we've talked about Marriage, off-handedly but in a very real way.

And then, suddenly, something in my brain clicked: there was that missing ring on the stand. (I figured the cat had knocked it off and it was irretrievably behind the furniture.) I remembered that he'd been by the jewelers today to give them an heirloom that he's selling .... I considered how I'd lent Mac the keys to my place today and how he'd been here when I got home. I dashed back to the bedroom and sure enough: the ring was back.

Eeeks, you guys! I half wish I wasn't such a detective, but mostly I am delighted that I am delighted. I don't think The Ask is imminent, but I know what I'll say when he does ask. For the first time in my life, at the ripe, old age of 35: I am ready.

Luck in Love

Are you prepared for more swoon? Because that's all I have, folks. It's partly why I haven't updated because, well, it can be a bit much to read about someone who is lucky in love. (Sometimes ... am I right?) Also, I have been slammed at work, working over 14 hours the last two days on photo shoots. I'm exhausted, but as I noted to my friends last weekend on a road trip to LA: it could be worse. We could be working in a grimy-floored convenience store. (We had to stop at several along I-5.)

Anyway, things are going very well with Mac, and I'm not even waiting for the other shoe to drop. We're that good. I know what our sticking points will be: finances and (let's face it) slightly mismatched libidos. But, you know, there's always something. I think if we can just keep communicating and respecting each other, we can work through those issues.

I have never been in this place in a relationship before--in love, still, at the four month mark. I think it's a combination of dating the wrong people and really, really not being in a place where I could give and receive love. (As airy-fairy as that sounds it's really an important thing--to accept and to give. I couldn't do it for so long.) Usually at three months I was feeling extremely antsy and unhappy.

Mac and I have vacation planned in a few weeks--a big road trip. (We're going to visit my sister in one city, and then his sister in another.) This will be a big test, I guess, though I'm hardly thinking of it that way. We'll spend hours in a car together; negotiate all the adventures that will come our way. Will it prove that we're great together or will it be our undoing? Actually, I think a road trip is the perfect thing for a couple to do at the 4+ month mark--especially if they are moving along as successfully as we are. It'll tell us a lot about each other.

Mac's ex (again, a friend of mine) got a boyfriend a month and a half ago. This is very relieving. Two weeks ago, the ex de-friended Mac on Facebook. (O, Facebook! You necessary-ish evil!) Mac, hurt, texted ex to find out why. She said she didn't want to see what he and I were up to--however, she and I are still FB friends, so she can see any Mac/Ruby action. (We don't put up that much stuff, honestly ...) Well, that very same week she announced, via Facebook, that she and her boyfriend (of one month, at that time) are moving in together! I'm surprised, a smidge worried and, well, incredulous. I also hope they're happy. Rushed situations such as these have worked out before--I truly hope this one does ... (but, um, worried)

In other news, I'm working on some writing projects here at home--trying to, anyway. Focus is one of the damnedest things, as is trying to decide what to write about. So far, I've been writing about Love--because it's a theme that doesn't tire. We all crave it. There are other, great themes out there, though, that I'd like to tackle--but Love is a great place to start.

Wishing you all (how many every many of you still read here) much luck and much love.

Guess what?

It's been a month and a half since my last confession ... And there's much to confess.

All good things. Very good things. So many good things have happened since I last posted that I'm not sure if I should just skip to the nitty-gritty-wonderful truth or if I should (all writerly like) tease it out.

I don't have the patience for teasing out the truth, though, so here you are: Mac and I are together. Very much together. Like, "this is GREAT" together.

I've never been friends with someone before dating him before, and I have to say this has made a huge difference for me. I feel so much more comfortable, there's so much more trust. Feelings are truer, I think.

That's not to say that there isn't risk here. There is risk. This is new and we're each wearing our hearts on our sleeves. But I don't care--life is short. I want to love wholeheartedly. I haven't done this before.

One of the bigger things we've had to deal with is the fact that his most recent ex is an acquaintance of mine. I told her--weeks ago--that I liked Mac. This was after he and I had had one steamy makeout session and it was clearer than clear that we were going somewhere. The ex has been great--very kind to me and just cool about it all. I know it must not have been easy. In fact, she contacted Mac and asked him to let her know if we were going to be at an event that she might be at. (Small, small valley.) Even though she was the one to put the kibosh on the relationship, I understand--I didn't want to see Bill (my ex) with his new gf after I dumped him. Humanity and all that.

Anyway, I am aware of Mac's faults but I love the whole of him--despite the not-so-perfect things. I think I'm finally at a place in my life where I can look at a man for who he is and not wish he would transform into something else. Mac isn't going to save me or make me wealthy, but that's OK because that's not what I need in a man (salvation, bank account): I need someone who's in it with me. And he is.

So far.

Love in 2011?

December was wildly busy. It's funny because I don't consider myself a terribly social creature but ... it was non-stop! No dates, but parties and grabbing drinks and dinners and whew. I'm glad for the relative social stasis of January (never mind that I'm going out tonight).

No dates, though. Yep, nothing. I haven't even attempted to "get out there." There is a slight crush on a guy in our friend circle, but the crush is really DOA because:

1. He dated (or is dating? she's out of the country at the moment) a friend of mine
2. He's one of those guys: fabulously good looking, really social, fun, etc. I don't want to spend my time fighting off the other women. No thank you.

Anyway, this crush and I have a fun (and mild) flirtation going on. I'm happy to keep it at that.

I guess what got me thinking about dating again is that a coworker yesterday expressed surprise when I told him I was single--and had been for nearly a year. His reaction (he being a guy's guy, an interesting guy, a guy with a girlfriend) made me feel good--attractive, hopeful, etc.

But you know, my single friends, I'm not sure I really want to be in a relationship. I am enjoying my life right now so much and feel so content with who I am, where I am, that I cannot imagine meeting a person that could fit into my life or add to it or ... whatever it is healthy relationships do. This is a great thing, this happiness.

One huge contributing factor: coming to grips with my father's death (years ago) and realizing, truly, that my future partner will not be some incarnation of him. (Yes, rife with psychological processes, etc., and I should have gone to grief counseling--I'd have come to this healthy conclusion far sooner and would have had better relationships with TOTGA and Bill.) The lessons we learn!

So, what will 2011 hold? Love? Sex? (pretty please! though I'm not entirely sure I can do one without the other any more--I've gotten old-fashioned with old age. Never fear, I suspect biology will out.) Whatever the year brings in terms of romance, I feel confident that I have the self-awareness and self-confidence to handle it all well.

Can't wait to see what's around the corner!

PS: Written to the tune of a delish Cabernet.

Purpose

Yesterday my hairstylist told me that she is thinking about getting a divorce. In fact, she had all but decided to file when her child came down with pneumonia.

"I just want to be alone," she said as she snipped away at my hair. "It's so much easier to be single."

"Yeah," I agreed, "but who wants to be 70 and alone?"

"I do," she said.

I get that. But as a fellow introvert, I wanted to tell her that her viewpoint might change. That there's something about having the support of a significant other ... And that's what I think I am missing right now, hence the nostalgia for Bill. I miss having someone solidly in my corner and soon enough I'll miss the sex, too, and will be off on the hunt for a new man. (Oh cruel biology! Because it would be easier to be single, it would.)

There's something about having someone in your life that gives life a sharper sense of purpose.

Match.com might be getting some more of my hard-earned dollars soon, dammit.

Shape-Shifter

"You couldn't make yourself stop feeling a certain way, no matter what the other person did.
You just had to wait.
Eventually the feeling went away because others came along.
Or sometimes it didn't go away but got squeezed into something tiny,
and hung like a piece of tinsel in the back of your mind."
--Olive Kitteridge, by Elizabeth Strout

Yes, this is about The One That Got Away (TOTGA) but also about the nature of love and from whence it springs--the shape and size of it. Sort of a "How to Spot Love at Thirty Paces."

(Not that I have a clue.)

God, a wonderful Valentine's day and I spend the last part of it (mid-romantic concert) thinking about dark, brooding TOTGA. Yes, he's the one that got away and good riddance. But ... I can't get him out of my mind, piece of tinsel or not. Others have not replaced him yet.

How does one know that she's in love? Evan Marc Katz brilliantly espouses that it's not how you feel but how he treats you. (I am probably misstating the facts because if this is the case, I have known love more than a half dozen times--an embarrassment of riches, for sure.) Guy treats me amazingly well, but I am not in love. I am fond of him, but that's not enough for me. I want to respect him and be proud of him. I want to walk into a room on his arm and be thrilled to be there, on his arm.

Too much to ask? A mark of a spoiled thirty-something who hasn't made the most of her fading charms?

Blech. So much for the size and shape of love. I suspect this Love thing is a shape-shifter and a glorious, different thing for each of us. And I suspect that Love doesn't choose you--you have to choose Love. (Yes, I fear it's as airy-fairy as that, the horror!) I suspect that if I wanted to, I could love Guy.

I might manage it yet. But how to squeeze out TOTGA?

Let There Be Hope!

Not too long ago, I couldn't recognize a booty call when it was looking me straight in the eye.

Yes, I was An Innocent. Truly. Let me digress: so many of us are innocent, no matter how many men we've slept with, hearts we've broken, years we've spent in a relationship. This is why (one reason out of many) the Subject of Love fascinates: we never get it right (not quite) and there are a hundred (thousand, million) variations on the theme. Is Love biological or spiritual? Is it somehow both? And does it matter? Is your Love better or truer than mine? (a question someone in their darkest moments might ask) How do I find it, keep it, nourish it? What happens when I fall out of it?

Well, anyway, there are so many things to say, ask and wonder. As long as I have the time to write, I don't think this blog will die.

But back to Innocence: I've always been the sort to keep my cards close to the chest. I've played it cool, partly out of nervousness (no one would guess) and partly out of not being interested in 99% of the guys I met. And then I fell for ... Reggie (not his name). This was six years ago, and though he was tall and so very cute, I have no idea why I stayed with him for seven long months. (In fact, I was just thinking about this today!) We had nothing in common except a sense of humor. This was 2004, during the election, and Reggie was a dyed-in-the-wool Bush-lover (we're talking George, of course) and I was the polar opposite. (I've wanted to write something about it: "Love in the Time of Bush.") I've never been so angry, argumentative and awful. (Of course, it didn't help that my father died unexpectedly one week after the election. Poor Reggie.) Anyway, months after we broke up, Reggie would come around to "hang out" and I never realized that a booty call by any other name is still a booty call. What an idiot.

I've gained wisdom these last brief years, thanks in part to Evan Marc Katz. I still don't wear my heart on my sleeve and I still make mistakes (see TOTGA), but I can spot a booty call at 10 paces. And I don't have fairytale illusions about love. Love is a part of life (let's hope) and life is imperfect. It follows that Love will be, too. And I'm OK with that.

DDoubt

(Yes, with double DDs)

I had a significant freakout last week.

A freakout to the extent that I clammed up, shut down, Did Not Communicate. So juvenile!

And Guy #1 behaved like an adult despite my behavior. He backed off and let me have my space and demonstrated heaps of dignity doing it. Wow.

I know, I'm leaving out the juicy details. Let's just say that we went to a wedding together and though I can't be certain, I think that was the cause of my panic. (Hi. Am I a commitmentphobe?) The wedding followed a romantic stay at a nearby hotel--right at our two-month anniversary. (And Guy is the sensitive, sweet, in-love type who marks anniversaries--so sweet!) I think it was just too much.

Much to my relief, five days apart set me to rights again. All last week I was sure we were headed for a breakup. I was sure I couldn't do this, that he wasn't the guy for me. And then Friday I wanted him.

Fickle and disgusting, sure, but I am relieved. I thought I'd have to look for a new therapist and start confessing my sins against men on a comfy couch again. (Not that that would be the worst thing in the world.)

Guy is just lovely. Where did those sharp, intense doubts come from? And will they come again? I sure hope not.

Amore

Don't you hate it when you say those three little words before you mean to?

I blame it on the sunny day and bright leaves twirling through the air. Such a simple thing could conceivably trick a person into saying "I love you." One moment you are half blinded by the sun and the other moment you're looking at your Person and the words just fly out of your mouth.

For the record, he said it.

It's soon, I know, and whereas I have freaked out in previous too-soon situations, I am definitely not freaking out now. I am thrilled, yes, (okay, LV, here is the giddy!) and I know that this isn't a declaration of Future but of Now. (If I thought too much about Future at this early point, I would be freaked out.)

He said "I love you" as I was dropping him off, and it was accidental. He didn't take it back, though, and instead his eyes watered and he blushed. I didn't say it back because even though it's crossed my mind that I could get there, I just wasn't prepared. My heart (in all it's practicality) leapt. I said, "You do?!"

I know he felt terrible about the timing. He'd asked me earlier today about my last relationship and why it had ended (which was a perfectly fair question; I'd asked him about his and his ex-wife's dissolution last week). I'd told him some of the things about Bill that I couldn't live with but said that it ultimately came down to me not being in love with him. I said that Bill had made it very clear that he loved me and that I just couldn't return the fervor and that it had been too much pressure.

And not 45 minutes later, Guy blurted the L-word.

We're just in the beginning stages. Everything is exciting and new and possible. We haven't had lulls or doldrums yet. Or disagreements. Or challenges of any kind. So isn't it too early to declare Love yet?

I don't think so. We all know what a shifty creature Love is, meaning one thing to a certain person at a particular place, at a particular time. And it can mean something else entirely as quick as a wink. This doesn't bother me.

So I'll take Guy's love and return it and continue getting to know him. Time will tell whether we have what it takes to ride out the inevitable storms--or even if we want to. For now, it's wonderful to be loved (no matter the definition). To drag out that tired cliche: Today is all we've got. I'll risk the possibly premature ardor.

PS: I met his dad yesterday--a lovely man who seemed very interested in meeting me. (Which means I must've been talked up over the Thanksgiving table.)

Two Weeks and Two Days

It's been a short time since Guy #1 and I met, and we seem to have gravitated immediately towards a relationship. A little scary, if you ask me. Haven't I always said that the relationships that burn the brightest die the fastest? (Such a skeptic!)

He's a romantic and has an accompanying tender heart, which I love because it's so different from mine--rather matter-of-fact. He is effusive and appreciative and shy, too, which makes his sweet words ring all the more true. (See "skeptic" above--I usually take fair words with a hunk of salt.) Some of my friends met him at an event this weekend and ever since they've been telling me how great he is. "It's obvious he adores you," they say, "and he's so good looking!"

As it happens, yes and yes. But I love most how we can communicate with one another. This is true blue.

"For now," the skeptic says, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Adios Match!

Work is wild, but I am home (finally) and sipping at a particularly delicious Pinot Noir. Work may be wild, but life is good. Specifically: the love life.

Guy #1 and I had a wonderful day on Sunday. I met him at his home (which I loved for the imperfection of it) and we spent the gorgeous, fall day in the city. And here I confess that we didn't kiss on the first date. It was enough for me that the attraction was so obviously mutual. And we didn't kiss until close to the end of the second date. I don't regret the postponing and in this case the anticipation totally lived up to the delivery. Wow. But I didn't want to sleep with him on the second date.

We had our third date last night. Guy #1 drove over to my place and we ate and talked and kissed like crazy... and then talked about sex. This time around, I want to put to test the advice of Evan Mark Katz (and others): If you're looking for a relationship, don't sleep with a guy until you've had The Conversation. (Of course there are exceptions to this: Bill and I slept together before that conversation and he wanted a relationship with me more than anything; TOTGA and I never slept together--because I was waiting for that damn conversation! And a good thing I waited, too. He was a good guy, trying to do the right thing--but just not looking for a relationship with me.) I wasn't sure how to tell Guy #1 this, and I stumbled all over the place saying that I didn't mean this as an ultimatum of any sort, but that I just really didn't want to have sex until we knew where we were with each other. The sweet boy (man, that is--he's nine years older than me) said absolutely, of course--let's get to know each other better.

I can't tell you how good it felt to have that pressure lifted! Guy and I talked more, and I told him that more than anything I want to be able to share myself with another person. I know, heavy talk here, but isn't that the point of relationships? To fully be yourself with someone--and not your scratching, itching, belching "surface self" (these descriptives don't apply to me, of course) but your mental, emotional, physical self. Those things are so closely tied (I believe) and I've had a hard time sharing the mental/emotional side ... Anyway, clearly Guy is someone I can talk to about these things. He understood, says he too lives too much in his head and that he is working on that.

I love a man who's self-aware.

And here's the big news: after all of this talk, Guy told me that he'd taken down his profile on Match! I am so impressed that he didn't use that as a bargaining chip for sex.

Guy spent the night, and you know how novel it is to wake up for the first time next to that person who makes your stomach flip-flop.

I hid my Match profile today, too. I would have canceled it, but I signed up for a six-month subscription, and while I am optimistic about Guy and me, I am also a realist. Who knows?

Love and Destiny

I was thinking this weekend how my view of love has changed dramatically (and likely for the better) in these last few years.

I clearly recall believing that Love kept close company with Destiny. This was when I believed that things happened for a Reason (large or small). When I was young--a teenager--I knew that Love would find me when I was ready for it. This knowledge had a mystical quality to it, and I in my tortured, poetic coming-of-age stage felt I was a martyr to this Greater Truth. Love would find me.

If I had known at 16 that I would be single at 33, would I have had the wisdom to be proud of myself?

Because, my dears, Love has not found me. My heart has been taken for a couple of spins, and I have heard declarations of love and even had an offer of marriage (and one or two "test proposals"), but no ... No Love here. And I am so glad I didn't accept that proposal or tease along the test proposals. It's gotta be right or it's not gonna be. (And by "right" I don't mean "perfect.")

The tough truth of it is that not all of us are going to find it. And it's not for lack of our own personal coolness or attractiveness or intelligence. I, without an ounce of bitterness, view Love more as a lottery than destiny these days. I aim to connect with people--or I'm learning to. If I meet him, I meet him. And if not, I am going to have a damned amazing life anyway.