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

Dating: Shopping Without Buyer's Remorse

I haven't been posting as much because all has been quiet in the dating world. That doesn't mean I don't have anything to say about it though!

Let's start with Dragon. He's been continuing the usual good morning/good evening texts like a doting partner but while he's trying to make up his mind about me, I've been exploring other options. That and his schedule is exploding as mine is about to in the next few weeks. I rather enjoy this break from him. That's right cupcake: you can miss me.


Sure we have randy fun, but I'm still shopping, as my friend would say. I'm looking to sample the selection, and make an educated buying decision as opposed to dealing with buyer's remorse after some heavy retail therapy. Another friend told me awhile ago that the difference between men and women when they shop is that women are tangible shoppers: we like to touch items to figure out of it's something we want. Men on the other hand go into a store with an idea of what they need, look at it, and then buy.



(Dating remorse is greater than or equal to buyer's remorse)

What does that say about the fairer sex? In my experience, men and women date at the same rate. However, men are more upfront about what they want and what they expect. What they show for it after a shopping trip is a whole other story! Women will try one six pairs of knee-high, leather sole, black boots with a 2-inch heel before finding the right pair. Even then, there's no guarantee they'll ever make it out of the box. The same can be said for my dating adventures. I live in boots. But I'll never be satisfied, and there is always a better pair that comes along.

Ah, but what about The Trainer?

Well, we're still sass texting, as he likes to call it. He had a meeting today to figure out his next move. I guess it wasn't worth telling me how it went. Regardless, I'm enjoying some time with him on a much more innocent level. The other night we watched a movie at his place, and hung out with his dog. Let me paint the picture: it was the quintessential bachelor pad. Unfurnished. Stains all over the carpet. Stuff everywhere. Messy? Slightly. Cluttered? Definitely. Livable? If you're a sports trainer. He had supplements everywhere, a massage therapy table, and other strange-looking medical tools. Not surgical, but...machinery I suppose. He had a roommate which was no big deal. But we were going to watch a movie.

In his room. On his bed. Naturally, I was concerned about where this would go. Being the dog-lover I am though, I paid more attention to him than The Trainer. That in turn created a dog barrier between us on the bed. His dog loved my cuddles. Before we watched the movie we just talked a lot. And that was nice. I won't know the outcome until he tells me, but The Trainer has been kind and fun. Honestly I am 100% okay if he leaves and what I got out of this was a friend who I enjoyed a few dates with. If he stays? Well...what if he wants to commit but I'm not there quite yet?

(Red lipstick can make any girl feel glamorous)

That's what I'm worried about. I feel like I've gotten into this groove of dating. This isn't going to the grocery store begrudgingly after work because I need paper towels. No, this is going to the department store and trying to find the perfect red lipstick: the kind that glides on your lips with ease, never sticking to your hair, or chapping your lips. It's trying to find the one where you twist the case, the top snaps perfectly. The kind that makes you feel rich. That's what dating is like for me now.

After many talks with Brother Bear, he has convinced me to relieve myself of guilt. These men are on a need-to-know basis. All they need to know is that I'm happy being with them in that one moment. If they want more of those, they have to show they deserve them from me. I'm not going to be the girl looking at her phone wondering why he hasn't texted; I'm going to be the girl talking to someone else because he made the time for me.

I had this thought tonight. I went to one of my favorite restaurants and sat at the outdoor bar, sipping on a tequila sour and slowly savoring a huge slice of French silk pie. I was wearing my uniform of dress and boots sitting by myself. I was mostly on my phone because I didn't want to really interact with anyone. This was my time to be happy and alone. Happy and alone. These adventures fulfill and enrich me, but my time alone to go with these (mis)adventures has taught me that taking risks and forcing myself into new experiences helps me understand my needs. Dating others makes me consider what it takes to date myself.

Marilyn Monroe is known for being the envy of women and the desire of men. Norma Jean created a character that was to be desired. Many men fawned over Marilyn, but beneath the dresses and that sultry smile, she was still Norma Jean. As one of the most sought-after women in the world, anonomity was nearly impossible. Photographer Ed Feingersh printed a series of photos called 4 Days in New York. Sure enough, as she was hanging on a train strap on a subway, no one paid her any mind. With an innocent smile, she asked Ed if he wanted to see "her." With a rustle of her platinum blonde hair and a minimal back arch, eyes moved like magnets to see Marilyn in the subway car. Droves of men flocked to the woman they just passed by.

("Do you want to see her?" Source: Brock Street Gallery & Ed Feingersh)

The point of that story is this: I feel like Marilyn in that situation. Normally I don't pay much attention to how I interact with my surroundings when I eat alone. But lately I've felt poised and sure of myself, but in a very subtle way. Men at the bar were kind and asked me about my dessert. Servers came from inside to ask me if I was doing well. I know it's their job, and maybe it's the nature of that one restaurant but it made me feel good. And it's just not there, it's anywhere I go lately. While I have walls that need to be jackhammered with a quickness, I am enjoying being approachable.

It's not the dresses that hang right on my curves or the right pair of tall black boots that fit perfectly over my muscular calves. It's the way I carry them. The way I carry my men reflects on how successful these adventures will be.

And I have a secret. I'll call him Philly. It looks like I'll be having a taco date soon. While a great way to get my attention is with a 75% sale, tacos are the next best thing.

My Castle, My Rules...Right?

I apologize for my lack of posting. I've been incredibly busy with work, but have decided to take a break from fire hobby so I can focus on other projects. Yes, dating is one of those projects.

After my horrible incident with The Teacher, I thought it would be best to keep my options limited. I'm in between talking to The Trainer, and enjoying some rambunctious fun with Dragon. I still go on to the dating website and respond to messages when I can, but I haven't been as eager to do so. It's a strange game: if a man is too interested, I scale back, especially if he's seeking commitment right away. But if he doesn't make a move soon enough, I move on to the next one. While I don't have time to play any more games than I have already tackled, I surely have time to decide who I'd like to stick around...at least for a little bit.

But The Dragon. Mr. Doesn't Want Commitment. Mr. Texts Me First Everyday. Mr. I'd Like To Hope You Keep Me Around Awhile.

What?

For now, I'm calling it summer love (again, using that term incredibly loosely). I can't convince myself to fall and open the cage to my heart completely without truly understanding his intentions. While I own my castle, he set the rules for us when we started. He is in control of the game, and I'm following his rules. But when he breaks them, I don't feel confident that I should break them too.

Oh, and The Trainer? When Dragon is away, JSG will play. Our texting has gotten a bit heavier. More flirtatious. I guess it's okay to show him a little fun before he may likely have to move right?

Then a funny thing happened. I was at a party with some friends, but kept texting him. The banter between us is electric. Trainer stimulates my mind while Dragon finds other bone-shaking ways to stimulate me. Well, I apologized the next day and blamed my sassy mouth on too many drinks. 

I never did that with Dragon. Am I apologizing because it feels like cheating? That has to be it. Perhaps another part of it is that it isn't fair to The Trainer because leading him on. At least The Trainer was amused by it all. I kept being a tease, and he kept challenging me. I like this game. I just don't like the arena in which we are playing.

Then the guilt...oh the guilt. I was happy that Brother Bear decided to join me for dinner and a couple of drinks the other night, because what I really needed to do was verbally spout emotional diarrhea to someone who would give me real answers and not judge me. He was explaining more of his bad country song life, and I kept getting distracted by my own neuroses. Luckily, he is an incredibly patient friend.

I explained my guilt to him: how can I be with someone who doesn't want to be emotionally invested, but clearly his actions are showing otherwise? And is it okay for me to continue to pursue someone who connects with me emotionally at the same time, especially when he may not stay here for long?

Brother Bear said something that made it slightly better: whoever said you should be emotionally connected to one person at a time doesn't get it. It's okay to have feelings for more than one person.

He put on his feminist cap on and stood on his estrogen soapbox: women have enough pressure to be something for someone, so why make it so they only have to do it for one person at a time?

The female bartender's eyes widened when she heard this, and was grateful that it was said.

I went on to explain that I do have these feelings for Dragon, but I keep them locked up because I don't want to give all of myself to someone who says he doesn't want a commitment right now. Brother Bear pursed his eyebrows at me and said that he's just waiting for me to make that next call. A lazy move, he said, and I have to decide if it's worth it to keep him around.

Listen, Dragon. It's my castle. I like hanging out with you, and I appreciate you protecting the moat, but you have to let other people pass eventually.

As he put down his sandwich for a brief moment, Brother Bear sighed and looked me straight in the eye:

"Is there anything stopping you from walking away"

I was afraid he was going to ask that...

The immediate answer was no. Nothing is stopping me from going, "it's been fun, but go protect another castle." But I had to reassess why I wanted (want) to keep him around.

He's Dragon. He makes me feel safe. I trusted him with a part of me the other night that I wouldn't have shared with any other man, past or present. I'm bound to him because I keep wanting to see where this will go. His ambition is admirable. He has his life together. All he wants is some fun. And really, that's what I want too.

What it comes down to is that I really don't have to make a decision. Brother Bear told me I had options: have the "what are we" conversation and base what I'll do from there, continue to have salacious fun with him and go with the flow, or drop him like a bad habit and move on. Regardless, he said, there is no need for me to feel like I'm doing anything wrong.

And so we're back to where we started. The easiest way for me to handle this is to go with the flow. Dragon said it himself: he's in no rush (right...) and would like to let things unfold naturally. So far, they have. I'm in no rush myself to put a label on a can. The vapid thing is that it would be easier to call him my boyfriend as opposed to "this guy I met online and we have a connection but aren't going to call it a thing quite yet."

I am happy with just letting things ride for now. The only thing that makes this more difficult than usual is that I have someone else who's willing to ride with me too. So while Dragon is chilling in front of my castle, lazily keeping watch while I'm inside, men in tinfoil armor saunter up expecting to walk in.

But will Dragon really step aside...or fight to protect my castle? I clearly chose an ill-trained Dragon.

I'm not ready to fire him yet...for once, I need a man to be convenient for me, not the other way around. You guessed it. Dragon is convenient. Until he mans up and says wants more, this is all he's getting. I'm having fun playing house in my castle.

(Ok Dragon...be a good boy and JSG will think about keeping you longer)

 

Three to a Match

Okay so I was overdue for a bad first date.

The Teacher was a bust.

First of all, he sends me a text talking about our discussion earlier that day to meet at 8PM. Ok, that's understood. Less than five minutes pass where I don't respond and he texts me the elusive "K?"

Dude I'm busy! Clearly it couldn't wait...

So I drove 30 miles out of my way to meet him. He told me he'd be five minutes late. That five minutes quickly turned into 30 minutes. I told him what I was wearing and that I was outside the restaurant. Instead of walking up, he told me to meet him in the parking lot. You better believe I was thrilled to have an emergency text ready to be sent to my best friend.

(Imagine a brunette Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys)

JSG Dating Rule #1: If you're going to use a picture of yourself on your profile, please make sure it's you. It's courteous. However, this is my fault. He only had 10% of his profile complete, and I would later find out that he had only been on the site for a few days. Yes, he is a teacher and works at a gym. But he's also special. Yes, that kind of special. Don't get me wrong. I'm not one to down anyone with a mental disability, but the problem I had with this is that he completely lied. He lied about his picture AND was not upfront. I understand it's probably held him back from dating before but this was big for me. I was already trying to formulate an escape plan.

He had coke-bottle glasses, was short, and had a lisp. I had been duped.

So being the adventurer that I am, I decided to at least get one beer out of it. When the server arrived, I declined a menu and ordered the darkest beer; the kind that matched the hole in my soul for driving 30 minutes away from my turf for a bad date. I chugged it on an empty stomach. In all fairness, he was completely nice, and we had some good conversations. But...

JSG Dating Rule #2: Never mention a second date until you've made it through the first. After slugging back my beer, I ordered a water. I started to see a glimmer of hope when he was done with his beer, but he ended up ordering another. So I sat there and nursed my stale lemon water, trying to fight through the frustration. He mentioned that I would learn to love the water if I would join him and his family on their boat.

I almost choked on a lemon seed. He tried to convince me that the picture was him. Now he's trying to convince me that he could change my opinion.

After a few moments of forced conversation (and one awkward racist comment from him), I brought up the elephant in the room, and asked how long he had been on the site. That's when I learned that he had only been there for a few days. Then I did what I have never, ever wanted to do on a dating adventure: I became a hypocrite and lied. I told him I couldn't stay because I had to be up early the next day (I'm a night owl, obviously). And that I was only on the site to simply meet new people. I saw his pupils shrink behind his glasses, and his face drew long. He thought this was going well, and here I am crushing his spirit. I needed something stronger than murky lemon water at this point.

Before the check came out, I forced a smile, thanked him for a beer, shook his hand, and wished him good luck. Shuffling my tall boots, hoping it didn't look like I was running, I walked out of the door not looking back. This made...makes me feel awful. But I have always said my time was valuable. But here I was, a hypocrite like him. And I tried to justify it. Would any girl in my situation do the same thing?

Once I made it to my car, I called my best friend. Let me tell you about her a bit: blissfully married to my other best friend, both of whom I set up (I make better decisions for others than I do for myself). Bed time is almost always 9PM. She has no vices (she says she'll save those for me). However, she is my kindred spirit who will accept a phone call at 10PM if my life depended on it. This was one of those times:

"So it must have either been really awesome or absolutely horrible if you're calling me about the date. I know you said you had an emergency text ready, but wow"

I then spouted off at least ten run-on sentences explaining my situation. Her reaction ranged from fair sympathy to uproarious laughter. In hindsight, I'm glad I shared that laugh with her.

Through the long drive home, I considered the events of my day. Earlier plans for a movie with The Trainer fell through. At that moment with my windows down on the highway, I longed to be sitting in a cold theater rather than a loud bar with my horrible date. And Dragon was out of town for the day. He asked what I was doing later that night. Somehow it seems appropriate to add this:

I mentioned that I was out in a different part of town. Once again I became a hypocrite. We haven't labeled ourselves, so why is it his business to know who I was with? Maybe it's like Dating Darwinism: to survive in the dating world, we go through some tough spots in our evolution as mates. We maim others and garner new skills to survive. This is my way of protecting myself to ensure optimal survival.

 

After a few flirtatious texts, Dragon made his way to my side of town. I had every intention of staying home after the bad date. It was safer. I knew Dragon had homework, so I did the right thing after many hypocritical moments that night, and told him he should focus on getting his work done. Logic goes out the window after midnight, so he ended up staying over.

 

Yes, I let a man stay over. My dog wasn't happy about it. In fact she made a statement mess next to my bed as if to say "there can only be one. She's mine, not yours." Luckily he took that in stride.

 

We had multiple sheet pulling sessions that night. In between them we would laugh and tell stories to each other. In the early hours of the morning, we talked about everything that makes us happy. This is the first time I've felt that he let the seductive performer take a seat, and asked the softer, gentler side of me to dance. This is the connection I crave: for someone to appreciate the two of many sides that make up who I am.

 

Once again, I had to dodge mixed signals with Dragon. We laid there in between one of our trysts, caressing each other, and he said eyes widened and a playful smirk on his face:

"You know this is a big deal for me as someone who doesn't want to be tied down or committed"

If this isn't what we want, why are we here?  I'm not sure how much of that he meant, and honestly I simply ignored that statement. Everything he shows me seems to void those words. I'm not the one texting first. I'm not the one trying to make time for him. That's all him. It's not to say that I don't make an effort on my end, but he initiates it. Always.

Chemistry: An attraction that can't be quantified or explained.  We both don't deny that the chemistry isn't there. In one passage of Rachel Machacek's Science of Single, she talks to a woman named Dorothy who is in charge of dating seminars. She says that chemistry the bad boy, not someone that you need. Because really what girl doesn't enjoy a bad boy? The chemistry is damn-near intoxicating. And for now, I am find getting drunk from it.

So we held each other close. He fell asleep with his arms around me. Whenever I adjusted my position, he would too, never letting me stray too far from where he was. His hand would find my own, and hold it to would pull me near. I would turn and bury my face into the perfect nook of his shoulder, tracing my fingertips on his arms as he would gently caress my hair, kissing my cheek. If this isn't what we want, why are we here?

I am forcing myself to go with the flow. My friends try to break it down as simply as they can for me: if you're having fun, and he's game to play with you, then what's the problem? There should be no need to analyze this. If I'm happy and he's seemingly happy, then a problem doesn't exist. It sounds delusional to me, but maybe I can find a happy medium.

When morning broke the dawn, I met his widened gaze that greeted me good morning. I immediately reacted with a grin, nuzzled into his shoulder and said it back.

"I'm really glad a spent the night with you"

He said these words while he rested his chin against my chest. With a warm grin, I opened my arms and brought him as close as I could. I didn't want to say anything even though I shared the same sentiment. I only wanted him to feel my spirit aching to reach out to him. The heart and spirit that is a caged bird, ready to fly blindly into his sight.

There is a superstition dating back to WWI. It is considered a bad omen to light three cigarettes to a match. The enemy can spot the first spark. And then he'll trace it to a second spark. By the third, the location of the soldiers is clear, and they are open in an attack. I'm applying the same superstation to my dating life. It is nearly impossible to juggle three men, and now we're down to two. It's not a duel or a joust for my affection though. I'm not here to break any hearts. Whether it's with Dragon or The Trainer I would like something to work out.

But for now, I'm hiding the pack of matches. Safety first.

Fly, Butterfly, Fly

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep. And I have promises to keep. Miles to go before I sleep. Did you hear me, Butterfly? Miles to go, before you sleep." - Robert Frost "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Call it whatever you want: My awakening. My chaos before my Age of Aquarius. But I have been a very busy girl!

My friends are growing weary of me...or perhaps they're becoming more amused. On the surface, it looks like I'm either a kid in a candy store, or I'm not being selective enough. I keep thinking that this new site I'm on is helping me understand what I will accept in a partner, and what I won't settle for.

Today my Other Mother came and helped me out at work. We started to talk about my dating life, to which I had to laugh off. It is becoming a part-time job trying to find the right shoe that fits. Before we could get incredibly in-depth with my adventures, my boss came in and gave me that familiar cock-eyed glance. It's another rare occasion where I'm in my usual uniform of boots and a dress, but my hair and make-up are done...and it's a nicer dress.

"Laundry day? No wait...you have a date!"

"...Yes, I do. Well kind of"

"With who this time? ...Wait, how do you kind of have a date?"

Other mother "Is it the cop?!" (Dragon)

"No...and he's a new guy I just started talking to him. But I might meet up with The Trainer to see a movie. So really, it's up to whoever asks me first. They're taking their sweet time pussyfooting"

If you could only see the eyebrows raise in unison. Before he went back to his office, he mumbled something about juggling guys now.

Of course Other Mother had questions and concerns. I told her that the easiest way to describe what's going on is that I'm in a "fly, butterfly, fly" stage. If the butterfly finds the right flower, it will stay there, enjoying the fragrance. There will be a symbiotic relationship for a few lingering moments. But the minute it sees another flower, or has had enough of the sweetness, it will move along, but always fleeting.

I don't believe I'm using these men. That's a crude way of phrasing it. I prefer the term "sampling."

You must be wondering what's going on with Dragon and The Trainer then...

The Dragon is giving me mixed signals. We spent time together the other day and let me know his intentions: he's not ready to settle down, and wants to take things slow. Okay fine...but the physical chemistry is so strong and enticing. I may or may not have given in. You guessed it: I gave in. I gave into the seductive prospect of playing dirty with a cop. And I regret nothing. But to take it slow after that? Realistically, it's not feasible. We even talked about how it was too soon, and we agreed that it was not the best idea. I am taking the I'll-only-text-me-if-you-do approach now. Besides, he says "I'm not ready to settle"; I hear "JSG, you can date other men." It wouldn't bother me the least bit if he decided to date other girls, or even fulfill other fantasies for the likeminded. I was right to be hesitant to get too emotionally invested too soon.

And now I hear screaming: DID YOU AT LEAST TALK ABOUT IT?! No, we didn't discuss that second part. But I'm really bad about waiting to have these talks. Texting about it is so informal. I don't want to be a cop-out (no pun intended). And, of course, safety first. Blog PSA: always use protection.

As far as The Trainer is concerned, there is a higher likelihood that he will not move. Here we go again...I told him that when he finds out for sure, I would like to go on another date with him. And he said that would be a good plan. He's another mixed-signal fool. Again and again, we say it's a bad idea for us to meet up because we both know there's a connection between us. It's not fair to either one of us to get caught up in feelings, and having to separate because life happens. But he sends me texts that he thinks are so innocuous. But here are two examples. He's the pink bubble:

 

I am such a horrible instigator. I'm a sucker, even. I keep falling for the text-back. Other Mother says the next time I meet him, I'll know. I'll either know that this isn't right for me and I should move on, or I'll remember that feeling we had on our first date, and it'll be lightning in my veins again.

Well...damn.

Naturally as an adventurer, my reaction to these actions is distractions:

Yep. Date all the men to sample what is out there and sort out the pieces later. Obviously, this may or may not work out well, but in true form, I'm willing to risk it.

I've been tirelessly (recklessly?) searching on the dating site, tweaking my profile to make me more desirable, and mostly dodging messages from strange men. I've written back a couple of men as well, but that's for later.

Reading that back, I can't help but keep thinking I'm doing it wrong. I may tire of this eventually. There is also a part of me that wonders why I'm so hellbent on this adventure. We all crave some sort of human affection. But it reminds me of a conversation I had with my friend, and voice of reason in the past. (Ed note: calling him Brother Bear from now on)

Brother Bear and I were sitting outside a friend's porch, commiserating over our love lives. His is like a bad country song; mine has been reminiscent of a rock opera lately. While we sipped on our beers and sat outside getting eaten by bugs and getting licked by Southern humidity, I told him what my biggest, recent issue with dating has been: they only like the one part of me they want to see.

The Adventurer and Dragon enjoyed my stage persona. While I tried to introduce the sweeter, more demure side of me, they pushed her aside and craved the fiery spirit that's in me. The Trainer saw the bare bones of me. The virgin who was just putting her toes in the murky dating water with the purest intentions. When he met the stage persona, he didn't balk. In fact, he appreciated both sides of me, which makes it worse because of his moving situation.

As Brother Bear winced in the lamplight, he inhaled his cigarette sharply. Glancing down to gather his thoughts, smoke escaped with his deep, Southern drawl:

"Look....you have a castle. This is your domain. You have a dog, you have a job, you take care of what needs to be done. So what if you wanna boink x, y, and/or z? Of if you want to date x and not y and z for a bit. That's up to you. What makes it okay is that you can detach yourself emotionally if it doesn't work out. You're putting yourself out there to find what you need.  

What makes you different is that you don't want a boyfriend. 'Boyfriend' means you want to settle. You want a partner who can ride dirty with you but give you affection, and there is nothing wrong with that." 

Nervously peeling the corners of the big label on my beer bottle, I looked up at him and found some sort of clarity. This is my house. I am making the rules, mostly as I go, but if you have ever seen the relationship/dating section in a bookstore, it is full of contradicting advice. There is no one way to do this right. And even if we think we're right, we have a good chance of getting it wrong. A lot! He does make a valid point. There has to be somewhere in this strange, ever-changing world of men my partner who can adore the vixen on the stage, but can appreciate my obsession with puppies and adorable, old couples.

So tonight, I'm meeting The Teacher, one of the men I recently talked to online. The nerve-wracking part of this is he has a minimal profile: nothing but a few stats and a nice picture. I'm meeting him on his turf, far enough from home. As usual I'm going into this with minimal expectations. What makes it different is that I'm now hoping that I don't continue this vicious cycle of low expectations, dating high, mixed signals, and dating all the men.

While I may be a performer, I'm not a juggler. My hand-eye coordination leaves much to be desired, as does my heart-brain coordination.

And who knows if I'll see The Trainer before he leaves, or if the Dragon will put his foot down and say he only wants to date me. Regardless, this is my castle. I create my own adventures.

If I Lay My Heart on the Table

Sometimes I wonder if I get in-depth enough here when I write. More often than not, I present to you my stories, full of analogies and zany emotional grievances.

But beneath my ribs of steel lies a heart, ready to burst at any given moment; a heart that murmurs nervously more than it beats steadily.

Too often I can't find a happy medium: should I allow myself to give into everything that turns those murmurs into heavy beats, or should I keep it in a cage where it's safe from anything that could touch it?

These are the questions that weigh on my mind. Because how do we know that we are ready to dive in and let go of the things we fear about love and the like? I can preach all day about having fun and not taking things too seriously, but maybe that is really my problem.

I haven't taken myself seriously. My friends can attest to this. I haven't totally considered how the actions of those I allow to walk by my side affect how I love.

But what if I did put my heart out on the table? What would someone say? Someone may examine and see the scar tissue of loves lost and not totally healed. Another might see the stitches I've haphazardly sewn myself because I was too stubborn to let anyone else touch the injured part of me. One person would definitely see the burns which became dark spots, the slowest to recover.

There is a lot going on in my heart, and I assure you not all of it is negative. The parts of my heart that have been hurt the most are the ones I've tried to heal by myself. And the parts of it that are still full of life, are what I want to keep the safest. Those parts are innocent and should not be punished for having good intentions. But experience tells you that exposing your heart means letting people treat it like a specimen...to let it be examined and discarded when it's no longer of use.

Falling in love is scarier to me than jumping out of a perfectly fine aircraft. I walk by myself at midnight and have little fear about what will happen to me. But to expose the ugly, dark side of myself? That's horrifying. There's a struggle when you understand that you can see the bright side of everything. However bright it may be, the light can blind you from seeing what's underneath. That's what happened with CSB when he told me we never were. That's what happened when I decided to continue seeing OGM even though I knew he would move.

I can be selfish and flakey. Rude and obnoxious. Inconsiderate and foolish. Needy and angry. Who wants to see that? I don't like wearing my heart on my sleeve. People who do annoy me. They can't bend and adjust to obstacles. As for me? I try to take the most logical approach to love.

What?

The logical way. Tactical. Having a Plan B in case Plan A doesn't work. To consider all the horrible things that could happen, and creating a mental survival plan because experience taught me that I will get hurt, and I will need to learn to stitch the wounds. Bandages unravel, so I must learn to cauterize.



(Source: zenpencils.com)

Every time I feel my heart try to rattle its cage, I think about the next best way to repair it. Because I know I will let it happen. Believe me, I know it's not the best way to live. And then there's this school of thought: fall in love because it happens naturally, not because the opportunity appears to present itself. Fall in love with the person, not with the act itself.

These thoughts wake me at night. Hell, they prevent me from sleep at night. The difficult part is to dismiss that I am the common denominator in why my relationships crash and burn. The end result is always the same: I learn and move on. Sometimes the end isn't so horrible. Other times, it's devastating.

I'm prattling on because what it comes down to is the biggest question: how much should I hold back from falling for someone? One of the mothers I adopted sympathized with me one time. She told me she falls fast, hard, and at one point very often. I tend to do the same. In an effort to protect what's left of my heart, I hold back. I put on this front that I can move on. It's not me, cupcake...it's you. My time is valuable and I don't want to waste it falling in love only to hit the ground hard. I've done it enough. I don't know how much more my heart can handle. I don't know how many other hands I can trust to touch it.

My burlesque mama is of a different school of thought: enjoy it, but never settle. If I enjoy it, that's how I get blinded by the deceptive rays of something good. It's this game I tend to lose very often.

And then there's TD.

• The way he kissed my shoulder the first time while he was capturing video of my dog acting like a fool for her toy.
• The way he melted into my back while we watched TV
• The way he leaned over, closer to hold my hand while we lay on the couch
• The way he traced my back with his hands and I felt a surge charge all the way from my toes and up to my lips where I met his

And then...

• The way I melt into his arms when he reaches for a hug
• The way I found the perfect nook on his shoulder to lay so I felt safe in his arms
• The way I look forward to hearing him tell me sweet dreams every night
• The way I smile when he asks me to let him know I walked safely into my home and my doors are locked
• The way I felt when he smiled at my excitable reaction to the end of my favorite show

It has been one week of this. Not to say that anyone should put a time stamp to matters of the heart, but when your heart is healing, it knows what it needs for nourishment. I wasn't expecting it this soon, and especially not from him.

Again it's just the way he is so open with me. By showing me he can be comfortable giving the caring part of himself to me this soon, it's like he's giving myself permission to do the same. I guess that's how it's supposed to be...

With bated breath and one eye open, I find the key to the cage. The hesitation is still there, but my hand is holding the key, resting in the lock, almost ready to release it into someone else's hands where I can trust that they will help me heal it so I don't have to do it on my own for awhile...