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...