Fantasy Date

Rode sixteen miles in the last three days (another at least two tonight) and maybe I've got a date. Probably it's tomorrow. He said he'd try for tonight, but somehow I doubt it'll happen, given the crazy exertion he's going to be up to. I know whenever it is I'm not going to be sleeping with him. Which, and I've said it before, is weird. This is a lot more like actual dating, and I'm not sure what to do about that. I hope I'm not scaring him off.

On the phone, I say, "We could eat dinner at my place, walk around the lake if you're up to it." I worry it'll lead to moaning in the bed, but I give him my address and wash dishes while I wait. I thaw pork chops and chop potatoes in an attempt to distract my buzzing mind. It doesn't work, and as I separate soft white cubes I think of the words, the address -- did I tell him up-and-to-the-left, and will he remember? Does he want to kiss me? How long should I wait to kiss him? Outside, of course, because kissing him so close toa bed would be dangerous. And of course I don't have a loveseat, so we'd have to sit on the bed or the floor, and -- Jeez. Obviously I've only got one thing on my mind.

Laundry Day

Am I really into this guy? He makes me nervous, sure, but he doesn't inspire Wannajumpimitis. He's admitted that he's awful at quote-talking-to-girls-endquote. I guess in the back of my mind I wonder if he won't be terrible in bed, or whatever this thing that I can't name or place, will fade as I get to know him better. I could live without him, I guess, although the excitement of the next date has held me in its thrall so far. Am I just using him? It's been a week and I'm worried about fucking things up with him. But I guess I've had such a messy summer that I'm living like I've got nothing to lose -- and I guess we'll see what comes of that. Hot Rod is magnificent, but he's a stranger. I really need to spend some time getting to know him -- and maybe that's the difference between Hot Rod and the other guys I've slept with (although he's not really a member of that group yet): I knew all of them (except Turkic, but we'd been talking daily for a week prior). So maybe my hesitance is natural, and familiarity-based.

Sure we've talked on the phone for now twelve hours, plus eight in each others' presence, but that's admittedly not much. I'd like to kiss him some more, to trace his chest hair and find out his least-favorite body party, so that I can compliment it to death. I want to get him drunk and kiss him everywhere except the mouth. I'd like to play the naughty schoolgirl to his beleaguered teacher. To teach him to dance. I'd like, at some point further down the road, to admit the ten people I've kissed, and the stories behind them.  To talk about the time I maybe cheated on a guy, and my worst break-ups. And how it all happened the summer before I asked him out. I'd like to get his history, collapse in a sweaty mass beside him, and race him to the shower. I want, and I don't know why, but but I really hope he wants too.

Jeez. Is it just that he's a guy, or that he's Hot Rod? Is it more than his goofily white grin and glasses? I feel like  I'm not allowed to talk about sex, that I'll chase him off somehow or make it all about sex even before  we've gotten there -- God I hope I don't fuck this one up, too.

Post-First-Date

I don't know why I find him so adorable. I find him attractive, sexy intelligent, passionate..because he is those things. He's certainly adorable as well, but that seems like something that has much more to do with me. He's not great at making plans and sticking to them, but he's very good  at indicating his interest, if he's kissed thoroughly beforehand. And, y'know, I think I can make that happen.

I wonder how I should feel about his suggestion that I sleep with him after the first date, and knowing each other less than a week. I mean, that's something I've done, obviously, but he has no way of knowing that! I guess I'm trying not to judge without more information. It does seem a little odd for a guy who didn't even kiss me until I made a move, though.

Oh Em Jesus H Christ

He's called Hot Rod, and I really like him. Turned-down-sex like him. He's made it clear he's really into me, but I don't want to rush and fuck this up. I also don't know that I want to rush at all. He's so bloody sweet, and a great cook (made chicken on the grill tonight), and a conversationalist with a good taste in music. I met his roommate tonight, as well, which was another reason for turning down sex, and he's super nerdy and hilarious and maybe a little bit into me, but that's probably just serious arrogance talking. I really don't want to get between the two, since they're best friends in addition to roommates. And we'd only just kissed when he asked me to stay the night, so that's another thing. Those three all together, and it was definitely the right choice. Oh, I do hope he calls. I've still got a smile and his taste on my lips.

Now, I've got a test in the AM and need to crash. Jeeeeez.

Hot Rod

There's a line here, "Friends say I'm crazy 'cuz easily I fall in love," and that's been my tagline for the summer. Hot Rod - IT guy, and the sweetest thing since honey, has crawled under my skin and left me listening to my "She Amazes Him" playlist. He called me "cutie pie," and "pretty" and "cute." More specifically, he said I have a pretty face, and a great laugh -- and he's smart, and funny, and geez.

On the five points:

1. Height (6') - Don't know for sure, but I'd guess so.
2. Dark Hair/Glasses - Yes indeed.
3. Body Type - Solidly athletic, way moreso than me. Good influence, I'd say.
4. Intelligent - He got through two years of Electrical, and wants to go into law/political journalism. Yup, he's got it.
5. Passionate - See above. :)
6. [Into Me?] - If the eight hour conversation night before last was any sort of indication, and the compliments he dropped just to make me squirm, and the fact he listed me among things he liked, I'd say probably. Oh geez, I hope so.

 I can type a transcript of an eight-hour phone call, but we talked sports (I said I played racquetball, so that's something I need to get on. He plays tennis, racquetball, and bikes.), film and music preferences (He's seen the Notebook and adores bad movies.), tv (He's an enormous Trekkie, likes Jericho and could watch more Who.), normal people (He pretends to be one, should flaunt his weird flag more often, but it makes him uncomfortable.), majors and future plans, drinking, friends, the battle of the sexes...I don't even know. Family, high school. Eight hours' worth of topics, and it just kept going. Sleep, or lack thereof. Him hunting down my address and stealing me. His roommate and exes.

To get up-to-date, I grabbed him coffee yesterday afternoon and we ended up sitting together drinking coffee for all of his lunch break (He didn't eat??), talking about I-don't-know-what, genocide and IT and biking, and we were maybe going to do something, but I think he went to sleep. Anyway, no call last night, then just as I was going to bed I decided to dress up and couldn't resist a call over - no answer, but like I said he was probably sleeping. Anyway, that was at about 23:09, and I worry what that'll look like to him. Hopefully not desperation? Ball's in his court and I'm wearing an overly formal dress today, so I guess we'll see (!!!).

Finn

You know, until I decided to end it, that I hadn't planned this. You know from things I'd said -- things I remember saying, and meant at the time -- that I thought it would last -- not forever, but indefinitely. And I wanted that to be true and it was, for a bit. But you also should know -- because I told you -- what I need, in order to justify to myself -- yes my friends, but mostly myself, most importantly myself -- being with you, and that thing is -- what do you call it? Affection? Caring? Love? I don't want forever, or promises of such, but I need "I want you with me tomorrow," and you've never given that. You probably can't, because of all your past baggage, and sure that's bullshit and you ought to get over it, but I also can't fix you if you don't want fixing, and I can't stick around if you don't want me. And the most you've ever been able to admit is that you like what you get when I'm around, and that's not wanting me.

Sorry, boy. I am so terribly sorry that this couldn't be more, for both of our sakes. Thank you for the time and the dancing and the education.

Not Breaking Up

Because we were never dating, of course.

But this blows.

(For information's sake, this is Finn. And I called him and woke him up and feel like an ass, and "broke up" over the phone. By clarifying that I could do this and it makes me smile and I like it but I don't feel like he knows who I am or cares. And he said that he does care about me as a person, but that he doesn't know what else he could do differently to show that. And I outright asked him to argue with me, to try to convince me...and all he'd say is that he didn't know what he could do. So.)