Ok, Let's Catch you up to Speed

I have been awful...careless even in the last few months with this blog. Let's call that my dark period. Without boring you with the boring insanity that is the life of Jax Single Girl, I will try to elaborate on why the period of late September early November was a dark and trying time.

• Remember Philly? Turns out that I was Plan B, and only went on a date with me because...I don't know. Testing out the waters? If he was going to do that to his girl with me, who's to say he wouldn't try that once it had the potential to go somewhere.
• Heartbreak Grade: B+. I really liked him.
• Dragon got psychotic. He texted me after me not talking to him for about a month and complained about me not talking to him. Being the man of whatever relationship we had, I became logical and told him I didn't see the problem because I really had no reason to talk to him. So he threatened to unfriend me on Facebook and told me to delete his number.
• Heartbreak Grade: F. I wrote his number on the bathroom wall of a dingy bar.
• Ginger Dom: I had a long distance texting (sexting?) BDSM relationship. It terrified and excited me. He wanted a ho and a housewife. I was definitely neither of those things.
• Heartbreak Grade: D. I was scared as a sub to tell my dom that it wasn't going to work out. But he didn't kidnap and torture me in the bad way, so all is definitely well.
• The Musician: My friend tried to set me up with a musician she knew. He was flakey. The timing was awful. His father had passed away right before we were going to meet, and I was starting to talk to somebody else. You snooze, you lose. I did feel bad about the timing, but my friend also warned (and reminded) me that he was a starving artist.
• Heartbreak Grade: C. I could see a few fun dates with him, but I also was in no position to be a mother and a provider.

There were a couple more men in between this ridiculous list, but they were just hook-ups. And those hook-ups were on my terms. I was truly starting to believe that this is it. I am going to amount to nothing more than the girl who men make poor decisions with to prepare them for real women they could bring home. I thought if that was going to be it, then I might as well wear that badge with pride.

Brother Bear joked about my stable of "he-bitches." Well, what should have been prize-winning horses turned out to be a bunch of busted donkeys.

Clearly...

I deleted both of my online dating accounts and, at the time, focused on the possibilities of who else was there. I really held out hope for The Musician. It was no one's fault it didn't work out. If there's anything I learned from online dating, it's that you can only force something to happen so much and learn to lower your expectations (yeah, I said it) because you don't know what you're going to get...until a dude with a mullet shows up to take you to dinner. Yes, we left that guy out of the list up there.

The Musician was supposed to meet me at one of my fire shows. Well, he just plain didn't show up. No matter. I was more focused on putting on one of the best shows our group has ever done anyway.

But...someone else was there. Someone who was always there. He was in a group of mutual friends and was at every show. He was always kind but somewhat unassuming. That night I noticed he was hovering a bit. Every time I would move to another place at the bar, he wouldn't be too far behind. He would try to make conversation, but this time it felt a little different. It didn't feel forced but it felt like he was making a point to get my attention.

The Jedi and I shared a lot of laughter and smiles that night until the early morning, and I kicked myself for the many months I didn't realize that he was right there in front of me.

But that's another story...

When Knowing is Enough

Between my best friend and Brother Bear, I've had many fainting couch talks about my love life. Most of the time, I'm asking questions like "what's wrong with me" or "why do I keep screwing this whole thing up" or "am I always going to make the same mistakes?" It has always been exasperated hyperboles about how everything is wrong. At last I leaned forward, and planting my feet on the ground away from the couch and made a declaration:

I just know.

Those three words are so powerful. I think they're more powerful than saying "I love you." When you hear "I love you," you don't always have confidence in the truth behind those words. Those three words are often said with one eye shut just to lessen the impact. Sometimes you just don't know.

With Philly, I know that there is something good here. There is a certain clarity whenever I see him.

Philly feels right. And this is such a poor segue from a truthful and endearing statement, but another reason I really know that this works is that I don't want to sleep with him...yet. We've been out a few times, and that temptation was certainly there, but with him I want it to be meaningful. It feels ridiculous to read that back, but forcing myself to enjoy our conversations and to savor our free nights together without needing to bring him home to show him how much he turns me on is a bigger adventure for me. My imagination is awakened at the thought of when and how, but I don't feel the need to give in to any primal urges. Really! At the moment, it's just more fun to think about it.

I never provided an origin story, and it feels appropriate this time. Everyone likes a "once upon a time" origin story, right?

On the online dating site where we met, each person can answer a set of questions, and see where one matches up with another poor soul resorting to the warped world of online dating. One of the questions is in terms of relationships, which of these is the most important to find:

• Someone you feel like you've known forever
• Someone who turns you on
• Someone for whom you would do anything
• Someone with goals similar to yours

Well, I do everything I can for those I cherish in my life, so that answer was out. The need for similar goals sounded too Type A. And being the adventurer, I would rather spend my time getting to know someone; I don't necessarily need to feel like I've known my match forever. That's why I'm here, trying this online dating thing!

So I chose someone who turns me on. Chemistry: the bad boy of first dates, the immediate sensation of trying a new dish without relishing how it awakened my senses after I put down my fork. That's what I chose. Philly on the other hand chose the first answer: someone you feel like you've known forever.

I peered through his profile recently to revisit this question, and that's when I had an epiphany. I don't want someone to feed me dinner in a rush because I'm starving; I want someone who takes the time to remember how I like my steak (still mooing with extra salt and butter), and makes sure that it's prepared just right. I understand now that I too want someone who I feel like I've known forever.

There's only so much you can trust from reading an online dating profile. Most of my matches have followed the provided formula: answer the questions that are asked in the order in which they are asked, and leave room open for discussion. As for the men that usually message me? They only put their stats, and send me hook-up requests. Philly's caught my attention because he busted that mold. He wanted to put the "looking for" section on top, and the "about me" section on the bottom, rebelliously going against the order that was provided for him. He was witty and sarcastic, and it gave me clearance to do the same. That was definitely comforting.

(Re: Online dating)

When he talked about what he was looking for he said "if watching the sun rise on the beach and sleeping in before making pancakes the next morning sounds appealing to you, then message me." I know right? It is a ridiculous line, and in true form, I wanted to see if he could back that up. When I messaged him, I brought up a couple of things he said on his profile, but more importantly I argued that waffles were better than pancakes, all day everyday. He responded back and saw my point, but still disagreed, and here's what struck me: the only reason he logged back in was because he was going to deactivate his profile since he was getting no results. Then he saw my message, and held on to see if something could happen. A friend pointed out that it seems like a sign that things could not work in my favor. Who openly admits that his or her online dating profile isn't getting results? Well let me tell you. It's the worst kept secret out there, but really most of the time it doesn't work! That's why mine is still admittedly active.

Oh, and he went on to argue that you could stuff pancakes, mix craziness in there and it will all be good. Luckily, I had the perfect weapon in my arsenal. I send him this as a counterpoint (Ed. note: NSFW). As a result, he invited me out to tacos.

I should have paid attention. Clearly I needed to give my immediate attention the man who buys me tacos. Tacos are definitely the right way to my heart. Our last date wasn't the first time we shut down two places. We shut down the restaurant and the neighboring bar. I should have known then...

And so a few dates later, and a squee-inducing hour-long conversation, I was love drunk and invited him to my fire troupe's most recent show. He was all for it. Because of my chaotic work schedule, I had taken off a month to recoup and to be in tip-top shape for the troupe after it was all over. Couple the fact that I was nervous after a long hiatus, and that I was our troupe's entire second act, he actually showed up! I wasn't sure if I needed to throw up or light all of my stuff on fire while running to relieve myself of the nervous energy.

Throughout the night, he would check in with me and see how I was doing. Naturally I was in show mode (as I warned him I would be), and couldn't give him my foremost attention. Besides, there were enough scantily clad girls up on stage so I figured that would distract him till I came on. But he would find me each time and chat for a brief moment. Finally, my set was up. And I gave it my everything. It was so much fun to be back, and I had the equivalent of a runner's high afterwards. After rushing off stage and getting a much-needed class of water, I walked up to him and asked if he was having fun. He was floored. This show, along with my set, blew him away. And he was loving it.

This told me a few things: he could hang with my circus-type friends, he was okay with smoky bars, and women could wear next-to-nothing and he still looked at me like I was this enchanting princess, which one, gross, two, not even close. I was dripping fuel-laden sweat out of my face and had ash and soot on various parts of my body from my fire tools.

Him: "Wow. You were amazing! That was awesome!"

Me: "I'm so gross right now!...oh, and thank you!"

Derp.

He had to work early the next morning, so he couldn't stay. He complimented the other performers and the vendors on their work, and gave me a couple of kisses goodbye.

That is, of course, after he asked what my next week was looking like. And that weekend. Color me twitterpated.

After he left, I went to grab my belongings. Because I'm "that person," the first thing I searched for was my phone. When I unlocked it, I saw I had 5(!) missed text messages from him. Clearly, he didn't understand that "show mode" means "screw all else but the performers and making sure the audience gets a helluva show." To some that may be off-putting; then again, most of us have our phones glued to our hands, so while it was naïve of him to assume I had it on me all night, I cut him some slack

When I showed the text to Brother Bear, his face lit up and he gave me a brotherly kiss on the forehead. You better believe I had the biggest smile plastered across my face. The killer for me is that he called me gorgeous. Not hot. Not sexy. But gorgeous. I'm a girl and I read hard into that thing. It goes back to my struggle of wondering if men could learn to like the show girl along with my daytime self. He could. He is.

 And for once, I introduce him individually to all of my friends instead of throwing him like fresh meat to the wolves. Usually it's "guy I'm potentially going to bed with, here's everyone. Everyone: don't let him suffer if you're going to bite into him."  The Toymaker was joking that he's a keeper because Philly likes his art. In my mind I am doing this:

Instead of traversing into the unknown as a frightened stowaway, I'm beginning another journey. This time, I have a GPS signal. My castle is still secure. There is no Dragon to send away other suitors.

The drawbridge is open and I'm ready to let someone in.

Between Second Chances and First Kisses

I think I'm mostly done prattling on about the anxieties and frustrations that dating can bring. For now at least.

To recap, Dragon left me looking smoking hot in a parking lot, Brother Bear saved the day, and didn't judge me when I drunk texted Philly. Instead of being most girls, and wanting some affection in the loins, I wanted to sincerely apologize. And I asked if he would be up for meeting again.

Much to my anxiety, and I can't blame him for waiting to answer, he gave me an answer the next morning. A second chance.

We agreed to meet the next weekend on my side of town at a restaurant we'd never been to. I walked in and it was like we picked up where we left off. With little hesitation, we jumped right into a conversation as if nothing had changed since we last met.

(Haven't you heard?)

I figured I'd spare the mea culpa for later. You know? After a beer or five. And we enjoyed a nice tapas dinner. He told me about leaving to take a trip to his dad's so he could get his bird, a macaw he had as a child. He drove up to Philly to bring a female bird named Arnold that was his childhood pet home.

Not gonna lie. I kinda swooned. I liked how unusual it was. I told him about how racing was going, and he said that he was getting back into it too. Awesome, I thought. Please don't ask if we could run together. We caught up with each other, and after some tapas and dessert, we noticed that we were the last patrons inside and decided to it was time to go

I felt like that night was on a high. But I didn't want to stop while I was ahead. What? NO! I'm still Jax Single Girl. I have adventures dammit. He started to say a loaded goodbye but I figured (probably out of nervousness and guilt) I'd ask if he really wanted the night to be over.

To my relief, he was open for more. Next door we went to the coffee shop which also happens to serve beer. And you know what else? It's a coffee shop where CSB frequents. Remember him? The Break-up Texter? Surprisingly he wasn't there, but who was? A few of Dragon's friends, one of whom stared at me as if to question if it was me or not. Yep, dude. It's me. Oh, he didn't tell you? Yeah, I've moved on. My thought was this: I'm not going to hide. There is no reason to deny myself an enjoyable date, even if it means running into an ex...or two...or his friends.

Because Philly paid for dinner, I offered to pay for the beer. It was my way of saying thank you for dinner. However, it was mostly to apologize. I explained that the previous month was pure insanity. He let it roll off his shoulders. That's the thing I've learned about those who live near beaches. Much like the waves in the ocean, beach residents go with the energy, never fighting it. His easy dismissal made me a little uneasy. He probably knows I was seeing someone else, doesn't he? I asked Brother Bear about this, and he thinks that Philly probably had a hunch. But the fact that he was willing to take a second chance on another date with me either says that he's a nice guy who genuinely had a great time and wants to have another, or that he's just very polite. Brother Bear and I both think (and really hope) that it's the former.

(Kind of like this but with less WASP-y)

At the bar, we talked about our experiences with art and running. We talked about traveling. The conversation was fluid, and constant. It didn't follow a logical format. Because I said A, he didn't give the obvious B response. Instead, each time words came out of our mouths, it created more stories and ideas that we both got excited about.

With each laugh and story that was told, more chairs were getting put on top of tables.

More clean glasses were inverted and stacked.

More wet towels were there to clean areas left behind by other patrons.

We were so involved in what was going on between us that we shut the place down. With eyes lit and smiles across our faces we walked out. There was a bit of a breeze that night. The kind of breeze you are grateful for when you live in the South. I felt his arm reach around my waist and then he told me he was glad we could do this again. Nervously clutching my purse in front of me, I told him I couldn't agree more.

Much like our last date, our cars were the only two left in the area. I told him, beer sticking to my tongue and my brain that (once again) I was sorry, and that he should call me. He smiled and wished me good night.

You know that pause? It's not quite thick enough to be called a pregnant pause, but not short enough to be a minor schism in time? It's the kind that you feel a weight drop from your shoulders to your toes. It's the only kind of pause I am aware of when you wonder if the time is right to kiss someone.

And in the first time throughout this entire adventure, I took the lead. I stared him in the eyes, and stood up on my toes to reach his lips. He didn't back away (victory!) and he started to pull me in closer. Then time catches up, and that weight that flushed so easily from your body is now up to your shoulders again, like a string pulling you into perfect posture. That's the feeling I call "save some for later and don't bring him home."

I told him to drive safely as we went our separate ways.

There are very few ways I know, truly know I've had a great date. These ways include singing classic rock on the top of my lungs in my car, laughing because laughter is my body's natural reaction to a great date, and driving with my windows down, letting the southern humidity kiss my face.

Three times: once with The Trainer, and the other two with Philly.


So I'm not sure if we're halfway there, living on a prayer. I definitely know we're not knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door. I at least know that I won't stop believing and will continue to hold on to that feeling.



("Just a city boy, born & raised in South Philly" doesn't have the same ring to it)

I took the lead this time. And now I'm curious, but mostly nervous, because it's not that I want fewer dating adventures.

It's because I want countless adventures to share with someone this time around.

It's Me. I'm What's Wrong.

So...things were going well with Dragon.

Let me start by saying it's been a chaotic month. I ended up totally ignoring Philly concerning our second date. He texted me soon after our second date asking about how my race training was going, and honestly I didn't have make time to text him again, so I assumed date #2 was off. And that was fine because things are moving in a direction with Dragon...a direction that I wanted to explore. Still...the guilt that I didn't even have the brass pair to say "sorry, I'm seeing someone else at the moment, but hang tight because I want to still talk." I'd hate for that to happen to me...

In the last post, I mentioned the Dragon was feeling a bit wounded. And by "a bit," I mean he had to be stitched, cauterized, and bandaged while other wounds were opening. He had a rough time at work because of some internal drama that could have signified job loss. Then family drama. Then dealing with pre-existing health issues. It has been this unholy trifecta of defeat. As the girl who always tries to find the catch when things go too well, I found this all too relatable:

He had three days off in a row, and was about to take vacation, so we decided to spend as much time as we could together, especially since my work life was about to swallow me whole. The first night he wanted to take me out to dinner, and when I opened my door when he picked me up, he surprised me with flowers.

I haven't received flowers from someone not a relative in like, five years. And even then they were apology flowers. These were "thank you for being so supportive" flowers. Color me confused: Mr. Non-Committal was giving me flowers. When I called him out on it being a big move for someone who doesn't want to commit, he shyly replied that they weren't roses.

Ok then...

We then enjoyed a nice dinner, and then the next night he took me to a comedy show. I was still stressing out about what he said about the flowers. It's like when you compliment people and they're digging for that extra compliment by denying that they're as awesome as you say they are. I was digging for the extra. Why the flowers? What are we? I don't like using label makers!

After the show, we went back to his place and cuddled on the couch with his cat. My head finding that familiar nook on his shoulder, I felt him jolt up a bit.

"Can I ask you a serious question?"

Crap. No.

"Sure"

"Are you okay where this is going? Because I like that this is no pressure. I don't feel like we're rushing into anything, and I'd like to see where this goes, but only if you were on the same page."

Sure. I definitely liked where it was going. So we decided to keep moving forward.

Flash forward two weeks later...

I had just survived and incredibly hellish two weeks at work, and hadn't had much of a social life. I was elated to talk to him. I was more excited to see him. But he was being a bit scarce. No matter. He knew I was busy, so I just assumed he was busy too. I've always had a hands off rule: if you really want to see me, you'll make time for me. And I'll reciprocate.

That same weekend, I met up with Brother Bear and we had a deep philosophical conversation about love and what our hopes were should we ever find it. I expressed my confusion with Dragon. In his usual cowboy sundown stance he stared me in the eyes and said

" Look. He invited you on a cruise. He said he missed you when he was on vacation. And he makes the time for you. Either he's developing some serious feels for you, or he's a sociopath. A lot of cops are. But he doesn't strike me as that type."

Well...

Dragon and I met at a club the next night, and he was hung over from the night before. I told him that he didn't have to torture himself. But he did. He rolled up looking pale, ice on his shoulder, and eyes like dark slits trying to stay open. He spent some time with me and my friends, but wanted me to walk him out because he wasn't feeling well.

Once we got to his car, he blurted out that I probably noticed he was being scarce. Digging into what was left in my brain bank due to excessive work, little sleep, and twice as much alcohol, I had to ask myself if he was. And then the shocker

"I don't see this going anywhere and I don't want to waste your time. But if you still want to go on a cruise, we could get separate rooms. I still like hanging out with you, but I know I'm not going to be what you're looking for"

So let me break it down for you, dear readers: He wanted to see where this was going, then two weeks later decide that he doesn't, even though he wanted me to take a vacation with him still, and only gave it two weeks to make the decision that it could not be.

I kept my cool, dressed in heels, make-up on, dress cut high, and called him out on his mixed signals and politely told him I understood. I added some sugar by saying that everyone was replaceable. I was drunk on the same politeness and hugged him goodbye. To his shock, he asked if I was upset because I didn't quite show it. Upset, no. Annoyed, yes.

Luckily I had Brother Bear with me that night. He looked perplexed since it took me awhile to walk back to the club. Eyes locked into his I said one word: sociopath.

His jaw dropped, and he ran to the bar to buy me a drink. Brother Bear was annoyed that he read Dragon wrong, and that (in his words) I looked smoking hot that night, and that it was just damn rude of him. I was more or less upset with myself.

I had a moment. All I thought of was that I was what went wrong. I am the common denominator in all of this. Somehow I did something that made yet another man look at me and say that he didn't like where any of it was going. I give space, I give them freedom to run. I lock into the matters of the heart, and they get smothered and break loose. I stay in horrible-for-me relationships, and I am left shattered. I lay static, and nothing happens. I. Am. What's. Wrong.

That next morning still in a drunken stupor, I cried. I didn't cry at what happened, but I cried that this whole "adventure" is wearing on me. I admitted that I wanted something real, for once. And I was equally upset that everything I did was just wrong. It was devastating knowing that I was putting myself out there, and finally feeding into what Dragon was showing, that I forgot to protect myself even more. My best friend rescued me with dessert and shopping. She assured me that I am not wrong and nothing is my fault. Cupid is just cross-eyed and something better is coming along.

Even worse, Dragon still reaches out to me: about the cruise, "checking in," asking if I was mad at him, saying I could still talk to him. And what for? So he could feel better? So he could make what happened better for both of us? Or because I was Plan B, and Plan A worked out so now I'm just knowingly back-up?

And then Philly...

I drunkenly texted him the night it went down and apologized for not getting back to him, and told him how horrible I felt about it. He said it was fine. And I may or may not have made a desperate attempt to secure a second date. I liked Philly. And I made the wrong choice. I should have known tacos were going to be the right way to my heart.

Luckily, he agreed (the next day) that he would love to meet up again. I was grateful because I could spare the embarrassment of drunk texting my own Plan B (there I go again being a hypocrite) after getting a goodbye talk at a club.

What hurts the most is that I still sincerely feel less worthy. However, what happened with Dragon just emphasized how much I need to admit that I want something more. Someone to love me. Someone to love. Someone I could see bearing my children. Someone who sees the light and dark in me and watch to nurture both. Someone who is happy everyday that I am in his life, and needs me there.



(Guys say that want this. I am this. Lies!)

It's frustrating because it's clearly not happening for me. Sure, love and the like should ebb and flow naturally, but there's nothing natural about me. I'm kinetic. No adventure is too sacred. 3 out of 5 messages on my online profile are from men who say I'm surprised I'm single. Hell, I'm surprised too. But who is ready to settle down with a fire spinning dog mom who swears and drinks like a sailor after baking cupcakes? Someone who better be damn special.

Someone who isn't here yet.

So after taking mini breaks in between confident single woman proclamation and self-wallowing, I met up with Philly and had an amazing time. And in my state of uncertainty and anxiety, I have hopes it will go further.

But that's another story...

JSG's First World Dating Problems

Things have been fairly strange in boyland. I've pretty much given up on The Trainer. The Dragon is having a rough time with everything lately, and has been looking to me for support. I went on an awesome date with Philly, who looks like he's ready to find a committed relationship after a few dates with the right girl.

All that makes for a very confused JSG. I carry myself to be this warrior who protects herself and uses men as distractions. There, I said it. I don't treat men like my little toys, but like a college kid with an empty fridge, I satisfy myself with what I have at the moment. Unfortunately, what I have a the moment is, as Brother Bear loves to call it, a stable full of he-hoes.

Well...that's certainly one way to phrase it.

I'll start with a conversation that I had with one of my dear friends. I usually get my "guy-pinions" from him. We all have that friend (or if you're lucky, many friends) of the opposite sex who we can ask for sage advice about dating. I'll call him The Toymaker. We routinely message and commiserate over what's going on in our love lives. It gets strange sometimes because he has legitimate dating gripes while I have what some may consider first world dating problems. For example, he may simply have a problem getting a girl's number.

First World Dating Problem #1: I have too many names and numbers to remember, and communication gets awkward because I don't remember which conversation I had with which guy.

Is that what a stable full of he-hoes means?

Anyhow I was telling him about my concerns with Dragon and his confusion on what the word commitment means. Merriam-Webster defines one part of commitment to be "the state or an instance of being obligated or emotionally impelled". Funny, because that's the third definition. The first is a consignment to a penal or mental institution. Maybe that's why Dragon says he doesn't want to be in a committed relationship. But I asked The Toymaker about this foolishness. Naturally, he apologized on behalf of men everywhere: the showing and the telling of what Dragon wants is incredibly stupid. However, he says that perhaps Dragon says that because he just doesn't know how to say that he wants that. And The Toymaker reassured me that it's okay to wait until I'm comfortable to have the "who/what are we" conversation when I'm comfortable. Work is going to take away any social life I'll have in the next couple of weeks. He'll be busy leading up to his vacation at the end of the month. What's the crap about love is patient? There I go again with that love business...

(Because when you're behind you're lady, you should know her intentions)

Boom. It hit me: maybe he's protecting himself too. If you don't define it, and you don't scrutinize why you're with someone, you won't get hurt. In fact, maybe no one will get hurt. Once you put a label on it, there is a pressure to live up to what a committed relationship is. A friend (and reader) told me that the key to intimacy is shared vulnerability. Well...I guess we're two peas in a weak pod.

Between work, teaching, and school, he has been grasping to find a balance in his life. Understandably, he's burnt out. And he's doing something that rarely happens these days: he calls me. He had a particularly rough day at work, and I texted the usual sadface emoticon, and said I'm sorry. Then I added the standard empty statement that I'm here if he wants to talk. Be honest: you've said that once or twice before without expecting to do much, but wanting to be a good person and look like you're helping. So he called me. And he called me the night before.

So let me get this straight: Dragon is able to understand that when I say it's okay for him to reach out and talk to me, he does. But if he doesn't want a committed relationship, I follow through, bu he does the total opposite.

What?

After venting for five or ten minutes, I kept reminding him that it's important to take a moment to decompress and just have a moment of "me" time.

"I definitely will. But I am really missing 'you and me' time. That's important to me too"

Phones don't have cords anymore, right? Regardless it felt like it there was one choking me since I couldn't get any words out after he said that.

Any rational typical girl would be flattered to hear those words; to know that someone out there is looking to you and reaching out. What that says is "you are somebody in whom I can seek comfort when I need it the most." I like him. I really do. But I'm ready to smack him with a Funk & Wagnalls.

As a master of creating distractions, I met up with Philly for a taco date. First World Dating Problem #2: Too many of my dates go too well. I assure you I'm not easy. I just have mostly great dates. We had very few lulls in conversation, the chemistry was there, and it was simply fun. Throughout the night, we were joking about our experiences on the dating website. Then it started to become an experiment for me. I let the cat out of the bag and asked how long he had been on the site. He told me a few years, and met his last long relationship on the site. I told him it had only been a few months for me. And boy what a few months, am I right?!

The more we talked about dating, the more I thought I was going to be found out: he, not I, brought up dating blogs, research, and the like, and how he found it interesting that people would examine dating so much. I hope my face didn't shift much when he mentioned "blog"...

He also told me his bad experiences: no attraction (a big thing for him apparently) in personality and looks, girls who lied about their pictures (I know that all too well), and finding girls who weren't 100% single.

Wait. Do I fit into that category?

I told him the same half-truth I told The Teacher: I'm on the site to meet new people because it's hard to date as a busy person. I slipped in that I have been on a few dates since being on the site. I was hoping he'd leave it at that so I can avoid feeling guilty sneaking texting plans with Dragon and breaking plans with The Trainer when Philly would get our drinks or use the restroom. The stable overfloweth.

Regardless, I decided that he was worth a second date. Maybe then I'll have my answer on what to do. Hell, maybe not. The only thing that makes sense is to tell Philly in person on our date that I am going on dates with other people too in an effort to figure out what it is I want.

Honestly, it is just becoming too much. I am clearly a glutton for punishment. I can't wait around for Dragon to figure out his part of whatever it is we're doing. But I can't deny myself figuring out who is the right kind of man for me. That being said, I also can't be unfair to Philly. He wants to date a girl who's not committed. Sorry cupcake, I don't exactly know if that's the case right now. Just for fun let's do a side-by-side (theoretically speaking) comparison of the two:

Dragon: Full-time cop, part-time teacher, student. Plans on going to law school. Not a flight risk, so he stays local. Bucket list includes lots of traveling. Not closer with family. Doesn't want a committed relationship. Chaotic schedule. Seeks intimacy and attachment when he can, how he can.

Philly: Full-time tech at a retailer, has side business, entrepreneurial spirit. Doesn't totally know about future plans. Potential flight risk. Close to family. Will go on a few dates hoping it will lead to committed relationship. Also enjoys traveling.

JSG is in a bind. Both are equally attractive in both personality and looks. And I know Brother Bear told me that nobody gets dating right (duh) and that it's okay to be attracted to more than one person. However, I wonder if I'm the only one in this situation where I can walk into my stable, ready to brand the hide that's mine. It seems like most people are usually in the pig pen, running ungracefully through mud, trying to catch the slippery pig they want to turn into bacon. First World Farming Problems?

These are the places I've come to fear the most. I've built walls around my heart, and protected myself since my last relationship (or three). And little by little it's crumbling down. But behind my thick, steel bubble, I am incredibly fragile. I crave intimacy from one person. One special person. It's just taking a lot of trial and error. As a goal-oriented fool, I'm doing what I can to make this happen. I've been mostly patient, but I also know that sitting in my castle, looking out the window for a suitor isn't going to do me very well.

And I hope these men understand that too. I may be foolish to assume that Dragon and Philly aren't dating other girls. Because that's what I'm doing. Why wouldn't they? But what it really comes down to is that going from a serial monogamist to a repeated first-dater is a large adjustment. And I'm continuing to learn about myself (mostly my failures as a partner). As I'm finally letting Dragon see the softer side of me, Philly is stepping in to also find a place in my heart.

All I really wanted was tacos...this weekend I got a wounded Dragon, a worthy jouster, and a puzzled heart.

My Armor is Weak

I joke that my knight in shining armor is more likely to be a knight in rusty tinfoil. That's not to say that the damsel doesn't protect herself as well. While I am a lady who carries my femininity with care, I am also a warrior who fights to protect what is mine:

My heart. Whether these men realize it or not, that is what they fight for. I didn't put myself out there just to get free dinner and have all the fun adventures. No, those are the stops on the journey, not the destination. Ultimately, I do want to reward someone the prize of my heart. But experience has taught me that men need to fight for it. I have handed it from my weak, unsteady hands, and even tossed it to the closest one who stretches out his arms.

Not this time. The biggest change I've experienced on this leg of the journey is that I have multiple knights out there at the ready. It's my call whether or not they even get the chance to joust.

This is why I am so enamored with fire play. It's the manipulation and control of an element that's particularly dangerous, but without it I feel vulnerable. I joke with my show family that I try to treat my performances as burlesque with fire because if you take that away from me, I'm only a girl, wide-eyed and imagining the crowd naked right before a speech. Fire protects me. I devise so many ways to protect myself from the dangers of falling hard for someone.

Even The Trainer called me cynical. It was the night I got tequila sassy while texting him. The irony is that I was calling him out on whether or not he'd behave the next time he saw me (which he did, and that's definitely fine). He kept saying he would. And one of the philosophies I've carried for years came from one of my best friends. He always said to believe nothing you hear and half of what you see. Well, that's exactly what I told The Trainer. I'm fairly certain that the statement sounded like a cynical drunken mess.

It's true though. Maybe I should rephrase it as this: believe nothing you hear, half of what you see, and deny nothing you feel.

Before I post, I like to go back to what I've written early on in these (mis)adventures. One such post was about trusting one's gut. My friend is a beautiful divorcee who still continues to have her own dating adventures. Like anyone else who tries it, she has her hits and misses, but comes out of each experience with a wealth of knowledge.

"Your gut never lies. Trust your gut."

Yeah, I could do that, but I'm stubborn and imaginative. Why oh why would I try to face the reality of any situation, especially if I can manipulate it into something I can control? Something that I can use to protect myself from what could harm me?

That brings me to Dragon. He continues to challenge me and peel back the layers of who I have the potential to be. My efforts to keep the wall between us are failing. My veil is slipping, and the bricks are cracking. I can't deny that he is where I want to be anymore. I know this contradicts what I've said recently, but I also know finding other distractions (The Teacher, Philly, etc.) isn't going to hide the truth.

Dragon shows me. He shows me what he wants and needs from me, and more often than not, I hesitate to reciprocate. This creates a struggle for me because it's not fair to hold back what I know I have to give, but he still wears a red stamp on his forehead that screams non-committal.

But what am I seeing?

I spent most of my weekend with him. Saturday before he went into work, he stopped by to catch up on the episodes of our show he missed the week before. Without fail, he always puts his arms around me on the couch, and he rests his head on my shoulder. I usually find myself upright, gently grazing his hand to hold it, but never making myself to comfortable, even on my own couch. Because giving in means making the most vulnerable part of me exposed.

Yet isn't that what being with someone is? I fail to remember that dating isn't a straight and narrow course. Yeah, even with all my dating experiences, I forget. It's not meeting Person A, 3-5 awesome dates, The Talk, and on our merry (marry? No way, I forbid that) way. It's complex and confusing. Being with someone, whether you intend to be with him/her for a little or a lot-tle, means giving a piece of you to share and trusting that you are safe in his/her care.

So Dragon stayed for an episode, and again we found ourselves in my bed. After all was said and done, I was in his arms again, sharing laughs and dozing off for a cat nap before he had to leave. The funny thing is that this time, I fell into his arms. I purposely curled into him to listen to his heart beat. I traced my fingertips behind his ear to his shoulder to understand the power of his arms, and why I am trusting them to protect me.

I'm trusting him with this part of me.

He then did his short shift at work, then invited me to watch his friend's band play. We only stayed for a little bit, but he looked at me as we were leaving to ask if I was hungry. I knew he had been putting in a lot of hours at work and at school, so I know he was tired and not eating that well. Instead of picking up something quick and heading back to his place, he decided to cook me dinner. It was as lovely as it sounds. It was really late, so the fact that we went to pick up groceries so he can make something was incredibly kind and unexpected. I even felt guilty that I didn't help, but mostly it was because I was taken aback by it. We even had a laugh because we picked up $2 plastic mini wine bottles to enjoy with our meal.

After dinner, we watched a few videos. I then saw the time and it was approaching dawn. Though I hesitated, I decided to stay overnight with the stipulation that I would leave early to make it home to my dog. I was tired and the ride home would be dangerous after a few drinks. But we shared another intense session together, hands held, eyes locked, feeding into each other's desires. I wanted to wake up with him much later in the day. It felt nice knowing that every time I tossed or turned, he'd reach for me.

Later that day, when he came over we lay on the couch to watch the current episode. But this time I stretched out my arms and brought him closer to my heart, still rattling in its cage, slowly making an escape. I caressed him and felt him melt into me. I want to trust him with that part of myself, and I am slowly allowing him to do so. I was starting to show him that I can be open...because he trusts himself to be open with me.

My armor doesn't offer the finest protection. I am the first to admit that. But after all the walls I've built, and all the times I've carelessly treated my heart, I know I eventually need to let someone in. Dragon is certainly giving it a fighting chance.

I have a doggy date with The Trainer this week, and dinner date with Philly next weekend. I don't know what that means for what's been going on in my heart. The Dragon has by no means tamed me, but other suitors are lining up to try. I need to be open with Philly and let him know I am dating other people...

...because Dragon may soon take the damsel away from her castle and into a different leg of her journey.

Kinetic Heartbeats

I'm taking a momentary break from the usual storytelling for a poem. My heart is drenched and drunk from last night. Poetic justice is the only fair way to assess my feelings right now.

With shaky hands I skip stones across a quiet lake,
Mist laying like a perfect sheet across the water
I cannot see their journey each time I throw
But each graze matches the beats from my heart

Walking away, heels creating a hollow echo on the pier,
I rub the leftover stones in my pocket,
I don't want to waste them
They're safe and warm there

The sun peeks through the trees,
A muted sangria sky pulling my head to face the path
There is comfort with each step I take towards you
And a gentle breeze guides my way

When I meet you the veil opens before my eyes
And only merely I peek to find clarity in your gaze
But the warmth that opens your face is inviting
Behind my gossamer eyes I embrace it

A head on your shoulder, my fingertips trace your spine
In an effort to find how you hold yourself up for me
And your head cranes to find the hollow of my neck
Gentle touches that bring us together

My hand in yours, you share this warmth
And it brings me to a special place
Where nature's pull binds us in comfort-
Where there is serenity, electric and true

The stones in my pocket wait for release
So I put one in your hand
Our steps in cadence meeting at the end of the pier
You throw it with care, and ease

And it matches my heartbeat in perfect time
Eyes closed I reach for my own
Hoping to mimic that rhythm
I cast it along the water

The sun glistens as it finds its own beat
But perfect on its own
And in your eyes I see it clearly and we both agree
The energy is perfect