Baby Steps

Well T&A guy, who will be now dubbed Mr. Patient, had an interesting conversation last night. There are few things I know for sure, one of them is: Once two people have sex, there is a period of time that is all they talk about/think about: When can we? How can we? How many times can we? I wonder if s/he likes _______?

I happen to think this is normal. Sex brings up all sorts of stuff for people and let's be honest-if you have healthy ideas about sex and/or a healthy relationship with sex, you enjoy it, you want to have it. So, when there is someone you can have it with, all the better! You want to explore and get to know that person on a different level and have a pleasurable experience.

But as has already been established, I am a shade crazy. It actually wasn't that bad this time, I promise. But I did cringe, a bit. Back story: I'm out of town for work, so we've been texting/IMing a lot this week. We were IMing and being flirty (healthy new relationship stuff, right?) and all of a sudden, I got really concerned that we were becoming just "f*** buddies."

Oh dear readers, I'll answer that question in your head: No, he had not done anything to make me think that, other than talk about what he wanted to do the next time we see each other. If there was anything I learned from our last go-round with my particular brand of crazy it's that he is willing to deal with it. So I asked: I'm not trying to have the "talk" but I just want to make sure my head is in the right place. We aren't "just f****ing" are we? He didn't miss a beat: Totally okay to ask that. I didn't think we were, did you?

Good news: Mr. Patient and I have taken a baby step. Bad news: I'm still freakin' crazy!

xxNB

Lost Baggage Returned

The good news: T&A Guy and I are still seeing each other. Bad news: I am crazy. We had our first bump in the road yesterday. We made it out alive, with only minor heart-scrapes and ego-bruising.

Somehow I had convinced myself that he was no longer interested. There were a lot of reasons for this, most of which were all about ME and my DB baggage. I don't have the energy to go into the details. Besides, the lesson in it for me was not about me and T&A guy as much as it was about how much my last relationship screwed with my head.

On the surface I would say: Of course! All relationships have an impact in some way, but I'm OVER IT! I swear, I am over him. I don't think about him. I don't want to be with him. I don't even have a suspicion about what is going on in his life. I'm not so sure I am over IT. Wouldn't you know that bastard's voice and words were on a constant repeat in my head yesterday: You're too needy; You expect too much; I won't make time for you; You aren't enough; How you feel doesn't matter.

Upon realizing what was happening, I had a mini-meltdown. Not because of the issue at hand, but because I was still letting ex-DB get to me. Why would I still be giving him that much power? Why wasn't I long past this? I'm not sure I've completely figured out the answers to those questions. I think it has a lot to do with building up new experiences to replace the old.

I've got to give T&A guy credit. He was a trooper. He took it and looked at it and said that he wanted to know how I felt about all of it and even said we would work through it. He's going to outgrow his T&A guy tittle to Mr. Patient fairly soon.

I sent the baggage back this morning. I told them I didn't need it anymore.

xxNB

P.S. I need to thank Queen of Spades and our Texan Bride for talking me off the emotional roller coaster and interpreting things in a way a non-crazy person would, over a lunch of mashed potatoes.

No Time for Losers

If there's anything we've all heard from the time we were little kids, it's "Always try your best." No one ever said, "Just do the minimum," or, "A C+ is fine, it's average!" Never was it anyone's goal to be mediocre. But lately, at least in terms of dating, I am the champion.

The mediocre date is sort of okay. He's attractive, but not outstandingly so or not in a way that is particularly interesting to you. He's not socially awkward or boring, but doesn't have that great a personality either. He's not a jerk, but he's not notably charming or polite. In the beginning he'll seem interesting, but after an hour or so you're wishing you could be at home watching TV. In short...meh.

At the end of the mediocre date, you'll probably get a generic hug and you'll promise to keep in touch. Either both of you will "forget" to call again, or one of you will think, "Hey, maybe I just need another chance to really warm up to this person!" and you'll end up on a second mediocre date, which will be followed by...neither of you calling the other again. And because it was mediocre, you won't care. It won't be one of those situations where you get annoyed that he never called or you wonder what you did wrong. You just won't give a crap.

It's making me think that maybe it's time for a hiatus of sorts, because championing mediocrity is ironically hard work. I'm not sure what needs to change, but something does. It feels like it's been a long time since I've been excited about anybody.

Red Flags

“My ex was amazingly gorgeous and brilliant. She was the love of my life. Men asked her out all the time. They would just walk up to her on the street and ask her to marry them. I don’t think beauty and brains go together... normally, ” he said taking a pause to down some sizzling garlic shrimp, continuing only after considering me from across the table for a moment. “You’re really smart.”

Thanks, first date, thanks. Thanks for extolling the utter perfection of your ex for 20 minutes to then tell me that I am intelligent albeit the recipient of the short stick when it comes to beauty. I was tempted to point out that the drunken men who lived by the 711 under my old apartment would ask me to marry them every evening after serenading me with “I Just Called to Say I Loved You.” However, before I could get the stunned expression off my face, he continued with his litany of all his ex’s remarkable virtues.

“She was well traveled, cultured, loved fine wines. She is everything.” Ramble, ramble, ramble. Queue me downing my sangria at an alarming rate.

“Ah.” More sangria for me. Why did I suggest tapas again? This could be the longest dinner ever...

“But, my parents didn’t approve. My mom threatened to commit suicide if I married her. So, it ended.”

“Ah, well.” I stare at the garlic shrimp forlornly. My sangria is empty.

“You’re great company. We should go out again.”

Check please!

Queen of Spades