I’ve been quiet for the week, I know. I mean, I’ve posted, but not the usual stuff. We have a mutually co-dependent relationship, don’t we? You come here to be entertained, and I come to write, and get opinions and spur conversation. It doesn’t work if I’m not honest. It can never work properly if I’m not honest. What’s holding me up? Let’s get to it.
1) I have someone who is scaring me. I’m tired of the emails. I don’t know you, I don’t want to know you, I don’t know what you want, but I have an idea. What you send me is not appropriate. I’ve told you several times. I will no longer be answering anything you send.
2) I am seeing things in my stats that are equally scary. Why is a Private Investigation firm on my blog a dozen times a day? Who are you and what are you looking for? You better reveal yourself and your intentions or your IP will be blocked. I don’t want to step in the ring again no matter how deranged your client. But if you stick a toe back in, be prepared, because I’ll go to the motherfucking end. And from what I’ve been told, you won’t be satisfied with that end.
3) The cop thing. I’ve been told that if I continue, I will end up dead. That’s promising. They have to get me first though, don’t they? Cough. See items 1 and 2 above, po-po!
4) The boy thing. I just don’t like this idea of someone I’m dating being able to read this blog. I thought at first that if I’m honest then what would it matter? But I’ve paid a heavy price for violating this rule before. See #2 above. Some rules are made to be broken. This one isn’t. So, the blog goes, or the boy goes. Watch me, as I eat my words: “I would never let this blog get in the way of a viable relationship.”
Let’s discuss the boy for a minute. The Queen of Quantity named him Sherlock, for his innate ability to find my blog from my online profile (I hear he had a little help,) and his ability to find my Craigslist ads I posted for my FirstDateDC research. The man is a super sleuth. I realized right away, I would never be able to get anything by him. He said, “Maybe that’s a good thing.” He might be right.
So, the recap. Last Sunday, after a few email exchanges, he said, “Let’s have a quick dinner tonight. Don’t think about it. Just say yes.” As I mentioned earlier, I loved the idea that he said in his profile that he was too busy for a girlfriend. There was comfort in that. Comfort like macaroni and cheese comfort. People, I am not a good girlfriend. I will tell you this now. Not that I can’t be nice and good to someone, but I am not good in a relationship. The idea of being tied down makes me instantly want to date a dozen other people just to prove I can still do it.
Our quick dinner lasted 5 hours. He walked me home. We kissed. It all felt so very right. He didn’t play any stupid games of waiting three days to call, he said he just wanted to talk to me. And I wanted to talk to him. Talk we did. On and off all day Monday and Tuesday. A couple hours on each of the nights. During some of our conversations, he asked me if I was going to move to Phoenix. Okay, so he’s been on the blog. He mentioned reading the things I wrote last week about Jack and that love triangle, and how deep it was in comparison to my other posts. These details are not bothersome on their own. The past is the past. I don’t care who reads what. But this ability to read the blog going forward, and the knowledge that his friend has been a reader for some time (Hello you!) is truly frightening.
For a control freak like me, this is a huge problem. I prefer to actually control the information and emotion I show for a man. There is something in my formula that feels comfortable in doing that. Not that it has worked for me before, but it’s all I know.
But, then I consider the other side for a minute. I think about the control freak in me being challenged in this manner. Nothing I think and post is secret. Decisions aren’t always mine to make. Someone calling me and saying, “Don’t think, Just answer.” Fuck. There’s something incredibly thrilling about that. Giving up the control. Letting someone else just decide. Wow. I make every single decision in my life from when I wake up to what movie I’m going to watch to when the dogs get their walks, what we eat, when we eat and on and on and on. I’m freaking out at the idea that someone could come along and change that. I’m freaking out more at the idea that I could really get into that. I’m freaking out most that to have this type of arrangement, you need trust. Something I’m very low on at the moment. Again, see #3 above.
By Wednesday, I was nearing uncomfortable. I woke up with a nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. I call that naggy feeling – raging anxiety. I live in an intricate world I’ve created for myself with friends and happy hours and nights out with the Queen of Quantity, who I am so much on the same page with when it comes to partying. (I know it’s not intricate! Christ!) I believe that I would be quite content with a man to spend my time with. But along he comes, and I get scared. So scared. Seriously. When I see it going well, I head straight for sabotage mode. Because the bottom line of all of this is, I just don’t think I’m suited to get married.
I sent him a text the other night in response to something he said. It said, “Don’t let me panic.”
He’s trying. My god is he trying. We talked today for a while and I explained where I was, that I need to just move it slower. He said all the right things. He’s into me, he won’t play games, he wants to try this. I reminded him of his proclamation on his profile about not wanting or having time for a girlfriend.
He said, “If you told me a week ago that I’d be at this point right now with you, a total 180, I never would have believed it.” He said his friend said, “Wow, you are really falling for this girl.”
Gulp. Deep breath. Does someone have a paper bag? I might pass out.