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.

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

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.

"Do You Want to go on an Adventure?"

Quivering with anticipation (or hormones), I woke up the other morning, bleary-eyed but excited about my date with The Adventurer (TA) that night.

I remembered I could be an attractive girl, and put on a grey dress that hugged my curves. It had 3/4-sleeves, and hit above my knees. As always, I paired that dress with black boots with a blue zipper in the back of them. This is my uniform: a dress always paired with boots. This was also what I avoided on my first date with TA. In a way I'm glad because he had those damn hungry eyes. He could wait for that, I thought. So I broke the norm, and put on some make-up and did my hair before walking out to greet the day.

As I got into work, my boss sensed something different. Usually I'm wearing work pants, a blouse (fine, a flannel shirt), and boots. "What's going on? Look at you! You look great!" he exclaimed, with that mint julep Southern drawl.

"...I have a date tonight."

"Oh? With The Trainer?!"

"No...another guy"

Eyebrows raised he said allright then, and stopped prying. Before anyone blows any whistles out there, my boss is awesome; the right mix of fatherly figure, motivator, and jokester. This conversation could have happened with anyone.

Anyway...

I continued to slave at my desk, wandered to different departments, not hearing a word about where I was going tonight. The damsel in me figured he's the man who asked me out in the first place. I'll let him make the plans. It's strange to say it since I do take pride in holding my own and taking care of myself, which brings me to Queen B and her girls:

Finally the text I was waiting for all day: he remembered (good job) my favorite restaurant and he wanted to go because he had never tried it. I said I'd meet him there.

Later on, I walked towards this place that with the best of intentions, but apprehensive about my needs. Not those needs but...you know? NEEDS.

By no stretch of the imagination am I a prude, but I'm definitely not a girl who hits it and quits. But it had been awhile. I carried a hip-rolling strut with my stride. Maybe, if it did happen, it would be okay....

Once I opened the door to the restaurant, I was greeted with a smile and those eyes. They wandered up my figure happily before our hostess led us to the table.

This restaurant is my favorite for many reasons: the large windows made for people watching, the live music (which happened to be going on that night), and of course the food. We barely browsed the menu before he decided to surprise me again. I told him I usually get The Zen of Zin wine. I figured he knew of it from his past job as a liquor salesman.

"Want to just get a bottle?"

A bottle? Most guys just buy you a singular drink with dinner, right? Then again, I don't know much about going out on dates. Since he was in, I was in. The scenery was completely forgettable for me. What sticks out for me is just how much we talked and laughed...the way his elbows rested on the table, hands clasped just gazing at me with those blue eyes. The way I could never figure out if I should part my hair one way or the other, but settling on twirling and behind my ears instead. By the time I came out of my environmental euphoria, there was a bottle of wine down, half the patrons paid out, and the acoustic stylings of overdone covers muted.

"Do you want to go on an adventure tonight?"

The Zen was speaking, and I was its mouthpiece. Eyebrows raised, he stammered to get out an answer. I suggested there's a place we can sing karaoke, and we can get free shots each time we sing.

Like a politician answering the hard-hitting questions, he said it's a go. We still had time before the club opened its doors, so we walked up to the bar for a beer.

Damn. Here we go again. I reached into the crevices of my college-aged mind: is it liquor before beer you're in the clear? I've mixed before...and I walked here. I'm perfectly fine. The Zen said so.

I ordered first while he browsed the beer menu. When he asked what I ordered, he said he was getting the same thing. It's like that moment when you find out you have something it common. It's that warm coating that surrounds your childlike heart before it rushes to your face, forcing an uncontrollable smile. That is how everything has felt with him. It was easy for me to be, well, me: fire-spinning, sailor-mouth, smartass-yet-demure me.

There's a catch here too, by the way.

My friends are obviously my army. When I have a date with a new, I tell them where I am. Florida prides itself on hurricane preparedness. This is no different. I told my friends that I was bringing him to karaoke, and thought he'd like them and would fit into our circle.

Recall that warm coating around the heart? The same feeling applies to knowing, really knowing, that I could bring him around my friends, and it wouldn't be weird. It wouldn't be him checking his phone while our crew gets into inside jokes. It wouldn't be constant apologies for their behavior. Jax Single Girl has discovered another need: If you wanna be lover, you gotta get with my friends. 

We made our way outside and he offered to drive. That and I would be a good co-pilot since he had never been to this place before. As I started to give him directions at the red light, he reached for my hand. TA just goes for it. And he gazed at me, starry-eyed and happy to go on an adventure.

This club is where the theater kids go to let loose and sing their happy hearts out. It's also where the BDSM set go for a good gothic time, and where my fire troupe often performs. I greeted the bartender by first name, which surprised TA. Yes, cupcake...I apparently know all the bartenders in town. So we ordered our first round, and I started to flip through the song lists.

"By the way, you have to sing since I brought you here."

This time the beer decided to be my ventriloquist. He started to laugh and agreed. I chose a song and walked it up to the DJ, leaving TA unattended. It bothered him that I wouldn't tell him what song I chose, in a fun way of course. And he remembered that I usually sing No Doubt. He rattled off a few songs, but he couldn't get what I chose right. It seemed to fit my mood, so I chose Bathwater.

A couple of songs before I got onto the stage, my comedian friend entered the bar. Their conversations flowed naturally, which made me very happy. Everything was just perfect. TA left for a moment, and my friend looked over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't within earshot.

"He's dreamy!"

Thanks, pal. I think so. I should also point out this is Glitterbeard's brother. He's also one of two of my amazing army that showed up. My blue-haired siren joined us later, enjoying the show with us.

So I sang to my heart's content, and he loved what he heard from me. His set followed mine, and apparently we were going the distance. I wasn't sure if I could handle anymore innuendo that night, which is saying a lot considering the company I keep. My bartender had already poured his free shot, and I was courteous to wait till he was done with his set before I took my own. With a sigh of relief that he was done singing, I congratulated him on his performance (...speaking of innuendo), and he cheered to a night of adventurous fun. There's that warm coating on my heart again...

But we were stuck together by hands touching, my knees against his, and his other arm around my shoulder, letting it graze my back from time to time.

The night was approaching early morning, so we decided to pay up and leave after my second song. TA said he didn't remember starting a tab. My independent streak was showing, and I told him I left my card at the bar. The next thing I know, TA is walking up there, handing me back my card, and paying for our tab. This guy...I must remember to thank him again.

We made our way back to my place, and he parked in my driveway. I thanked him for another awesome night. With willing eyes and smiles on our faces, we met with a kiss. Wow, he's a good kisser. We're still kissing...did the seat just lean back?

Needless to say, he was allowed inside my house that night. A lady should never say too much, but I will say that he was an attentive lover. It was intense. Clearly, we were both thinking about this since we first met. I guess that's part of the explanation for chemistry, and the way it works with two people.

After all was said and done, he told me he couldn't believe he met me. We kissed good night and I sent him home.

I can't believe I almost didn't give you a chance. I internally apologized for ever referring to him as Beer Man.

I had to hide my grin the next day. It was permanently tattooed on my face. One lost wallet, another (pious) visit to my home, and another kiss later, he is coming to my next fire show.

I like this adventure. I like it a lot. Yes, it's obvious I engage in risky behavior, but matters of the heart are risky too.

Letting the warmth fill the holes in my heart, and harden it sounds like a greater risk than bringing a guy on the second date home. Like every adventure I've had, it was totally worth it.

More than just a conquest, he is definitely worth it. 

Cheers to an Awesome Night

One thing that I'm learning in this new adventure: Talking to two men at the same time is painfully difficult. It's a fun challenge, but I have to treat this like I'm studying for a final. For the last couple of days, I checked Indy and Beer Man's profiles, reviewed, and made sure to commit certain parts of their profiles to memory so I don't goof up in any of our conversations.

Because how embarrassing would it be to bring up Beer Man's time in Brazil? Oh that's not right...my bad. And honestly it feels like cheating. I do not like cheaters. In many ways I'm an extremely non-judgmental person. But once I discover someone is a cheater, it leaves a certain distaste in my mouth. Yes, I understand that people change, but it's like a stain on their foreheads sometimes.

All of that aside, I have to go with the assumption in these men's profiles that they are indeed single and unattached. Can we get a Single Ladies reference in here?

That's better.

Alas, before my date with Beer Man the other night, I was getting dolled up after a long conversation with Indy. I was pretty over the moon about talking to him, but had minimal expectations for Beer Man. Obviously, I gave him a horrible nickname.

My survival instincts were on high alert. I let my friends know where I was. My emergency text was at the ready. I stayed close to home. I kept my appearance realistic and low on sex appeal. I knew how to hold my keys intertwined in my fingers in case I needed to be defensive.

Jax Single Girl was more prepared than an Eagle Scout.

So I walked out of my door late at night, and headed toward the bar that we were supposed to meet. This is one dating rule I broke. I understand it's pretty normal to meet at a bar on the first date. However, I like to keep my mind alert and ready when meeting someone new. After texting him what I was wearing I met eyes with him, smiled, and said hello as we walked into the bar.

This is the kind of bar the cool kids talk about. And by cool kids, I mean hipsters. Black-rimmed glasses, flannel, men-in-girl-pant hipsters. There is a bathtub in the bar when you first walk in, and most drinks are served in mason jars, a subtle ironic failure and jab against the redneck heart of Jacksonville.

He looked better than his pictures. Don't get me wrong here. Looks aren't everything, but when you're dating someone based on an online profile, they better be presentable. Beer Man is a tall brunette with a baby face.

Somehow the conversation came easily. I know I've said that about other dates, but it was different this time. I jumped right in as if I was talking to my best of friends. When you are with your true friends, you don't hold back who you are. There is no surface to scratch. I'm pretty positive I said one or two four-letter words in my first few sentences to Beer Man. Luckily he didn't mind.

It also turned out that one of my best friends from high school happened to be there with her husband. I ran up to her right after we ordered our drinks, and gave her a hug. She awkwardly pulled back and with her inquisitive face started to ask if I was on a date. Through clenched teeth and a forced smile I told her that this was a first date and that we had just walked in. She locked her eyes to mine as if to say "Good luck and vaya con dios." She later told me that I looked happy, which was good to know.

I don't know if it was because I wanted to force the time to go faster in case this was a bust, or if I had a brief moment of bravado, but I started to ask the standard first date questions about himself one right after the other: where do you work, do you like it, where did you go to school, do you like this bar, etc.

I think I'll blame the supermoon for the fastidious speed dating interview I gave him...

But he ran with it, and it seemed to work well. As we were keeping the conversation flowing, we noticed the bar patrons next to us laughing as the sound of metal was dinging against the bar shelves. There is a ring toss game where you take rings of mason jars, throw them at the shelves, and if you get a ring around the bottle of liquor, you get a free shot of it.

Here's how I knew he was an adventurer much like me. (Ed. Note: change his nickname from Beer Man to The Adventurer...not to be confused with Indy).  With a charming, mischievous smile, he proclaimed that we should do it. Before I could complain about my short stature and T-Rex arms, he was already asking the bartender for the rings. We both failed miserably, but were laughing the entire time. After the round of Redneck Ring Toss, we started to talk about if we'd be happy with the shots we could have won.

I explained I was a whiskey girl, and told him about Fireball: a cinnamon cup of goodness. He explained that he used to be a liquor salesman and tried that, and is also a fan of red wine. That was one of many things we had in common, I would find out. I told him that my drink of choice lately was a Fireball shot dropped in a glass of cider. His eyes got big and another tight-lipped smile grew on his face.

"The night is young. I don't have anything to do and I imagine you don't either. Let's go to your bar and try some Fireball with cider there."

Is this what it's like to date me?

CSB was an adventurer too, but I was just along for the ride. There was a sense of confidence with The Adventurer that he could be trusted with my sense of risk and abandonment...at least for that night. Like a willing Bonnie to his Clyde, I said it sounded like a good idea. His charisma and machismo weren't offensive. It truly came off as genuine confidence.

So we walked the busy streets a few blocks down to "my bar." That's how quickly conversation flowed. I told him that my usual bar is a hole-in-the-wall, dank, dirty, smoke-filled space. He seemed okay with that. I also had a sense of guilt because I wondered if it was bad that I "had" a bar. I didn't want to come off as a daily drunk, but at the same time I remembered what I told myself earlier: I'm here for fun. This is just a date.

I took him to the back entrance, which I playfully chimed was where the regulars go. We walked up to the bar, and I was greeted with my first name, followed by one of the bartenders yelling, with her emphysema-riddled voice "YA BACK AGAIN, HUH?!" I may or may not have been there twice earlier that week. I stuttered a laugh and sheepishly met eyes with The Adventurer. This was the first of many times this night where he had hungry eyes. Yes, Patrick Swayze-type, jump-in-my-arms-in-the-lake-Baby, Dirty Dancing hungry eyes. He likes this about me. And guilt again. I don't want to be that girl who he thinks he can always take to the bar, get drunk, and get lucky. In his defense, he was a total gentleman that night.

After explaining the Fireball concoction to another bartender, I took out my card to offer to pay. The Adventurer stopped me and said he'll get it. Promising, I thought. So I handed him his glass and asked if we should raise them for anything.

"Here's to an already awesome night!"

He was right. We locked eyes with sincere ear-to-ear grins.. I probably could have broken that glass out of sheer excitement. I really was having a blast.

We sat at a high-top, chatting about movies we liked and the music from the jukebox. We really had a lot in common. He then recalled in a message I sent that day that I loved this bar because of Big Buck Hunt. There is nothing more satisfying than releasing rage after a day of dealing with absolute nonsense and stress, and shooting Bambi's dad...and his little critter friends too. He got up, got some cash, and put money in the machine. It's very important that I emphasize that none of this was asked. He just did it. He left me with no choice but to completely own him at this game.

To me this was a bit of a test: I get mouthy and angry if I don't get all three bucks each game. Even as I was swearing and getting jumpy with this neon-orange rifle, he was amused and enjoying it. That was so telling because I kept thinking I was out with my closest friends. I wasn't hiding. I wasn't trying to be this demure vision on an online profile. I wasn't forcing intelligent conversation about philosophy and reason.

I was having a good time being myself around someone who was pretty damn fine with it. Bless it.

After that round, he asked if I wanted another drink. Playing it safe, I said a beer was fine. Again, I didn't want to get too drunk and lose all inhibition. He came back, and proceeded to put money in the bowling video game. I'm horrible at bowling in real life, so this was not going to be my name. He won fair and square. And laughed about how bad we did at Redneck Ring Toss. Clearly, we were finding our niche in both bar games and in the dating game.

As we made our way back to the bar, we sat facing each other. I had another Cher Horowitz moment as I did many moons ago. "Look at that body language. Legs crossed towards each other. That is an unequivocal sex invite!" It was approaching last call somehow, and there was a lot of space at the bar. But my knees touched his, and I didn't budge. He didn't either. As we finished another beer (he keeps surprising me with his ninja skills), he was listening me narrate a story of sorts. But those eyes...they're not the kind of eyes that you first notice when you look at someone who has nice eyes. But they were intense. He would lean on the bar, elbow bent, hand cupping his head, staring at me with those hungry eyes. I wasn't feeling uncomfortable, but like everything else about him, it kept surprising me.

When Emphysema Emily yelled last call, we peeled ourselves off the barstools and started to walk closer to our homes. I don't remember what we were talking about (another reason I'm hesitant to drink on a first date), but the next thing I know, he grabbed my hand and held it. Did he understand that quickly that hand holding is a big deal for me? I didn't mind. In fact, it was a nice gesture. Instead of protecting me from monsters under the bed, he was protecting me from surly bar patrons at an ungodly hour.

 As we approached the bar I brazenly asked if he was going to walk me home or if it was time to say good-bye. It would be a gentlemanly thing to do, he explained, to walk a lady home.

In the sea of pubs and hipster bars, there is a gay bar on the corner. I heard an effeminate voice drunkenly scream my name. My eyes widened to see my darling queen in his glitterbearded glory reaching out for a "hey girl."

I hugged him and greeted him while his partner, also in drag, pulled me close and drunkenly told me he loved me and fawned over me for a few moments. All the while, The Adventurer standing by, amused with hands in his pockets.

"AY! WHO IS THAT MAN RIGHT THERE GIRL?!"

Sheepishly again, I told him I was on a date. My queen is a mama bear who looks out for me and anyone he loves. To my surprise, as he has been good at all night, he walked up to my darling glitterbeard and introduced himself. I could see in my periphery, Glitterbeard sizing him up. I didn't want to keep them from whatever after party they had, so I said that The Adventurer was walking me home.

"YEAH, WALK MY GIRL HOME AND TAKE CARE OF HER! LOOK AT THEM HOLDING HANDS BEING CUTE AND SHIT! GO ON, GIRL!"

Paraphrasing, but that's really the gist of it. This date, was an adventure for sure.

He walked me up to my doorstep, and I gave him a long, awkward drunken hug (fine two) goodbye.

As I lay in bed, reflecting on this crazy journey of juggling multiple men, I grinned. This could be a good thing. I have always been a risk taker, and that night wasn't any different. I'm glad I gave him a chance, booze and all.

Date #2 is coming in a couple of days.

The journey continues....

It's That Damn Milkshake

It keeps bringing these boys to the yard. I'm running out of ice cream you guys!


Actually it could have been that supermoon from this week. After all was said and done with The Trainer (who still texts me. Not sure how to feel about that), I took it upon myself to search for potential dating material online. Somehow I ended up signing up on another free dating site.

I don't know if I was just getting desperate, but it's like when you buy raffle tickets at the fair. The more you buy, the better chances you have at winning the prize. I was still having my own pity party. I couldn't understand if I was desirable or if my luck is absolutely awful. My close friend (and second mother) and I had a conversation during a lull at work about the men she knows I've had in my life, along with my recent disappointment with The Trainer. I told her that short of locking up my feelings and girl bits in a box for protection, I don't know if I could keep playing the dating game. My victories have been short lived, and the losses have been grandiose.

"Oh honey," she said with a nurturing look on her face, "I fall in love and fall hard. It's taken me many times before I finally got it right. But if you don't see what's out there, you might be missing out on something good."

Moms. They're good like that. And she's right. While I may moan and groan about how I'm getting too old for this, I am still young. This blog is called Jax Single Girl Adventures! It is inherent in my personality to take risks and enjoy life. While the act of dating is taxing, I think I could train myself to find some enjoyment in it.

So I came home, flipped open my laptop and went through the arduous task of completing yet another online profile.

Within hours, I had multiple men messaging me. One man wants to travel from Tampa to visit. He's hot, but he's got that venereal disease contributor look to him. A grandpa wanted to "take really good care of me." One guy with no picture proposed (that's a new one). And my favorite is the guy who wanted to send me pictures of his man junk because I would be so impressed. Naturally I tried to maintain a cheery disposition about the whole thing. Maybe I'm just weeding out the crazy ones early on.

So this site requires you to answer all of these questions to find out how well you'll match with other men. Their selling point is YOU ARE IN CONTROL OF YOUR MATCHES! Girl, I've been in control for awhile and let me tell you how awesomely that's worked out. Finally after messaging ten men, which is strongly suggested by this site, I received two responses that piqued my interest.

For sake of time and space, I'll give you stats on each man

Indiana Jones Age 25
- Works in insurance
- Has a Bachelor's, Masters, and is working on his PhD.
- Completed medical school
- Lived four months in Brazil just because
- Avid runner and surfer
- Training a therapy dog

Beer Man (I need to come up with a better name) Age 25
- Works for his father's company
- Native of the city for many years
- Hockey lover
- Enjoys beer and wine since he worked in liquor sales
- Plays guitar
- Movie buff
- Tennis player

As you can see, one looks better on paper than the other. Take a look at your life for a quick moment. You may have encountered these two types of people at some point: Future Husband/Wife of the Year and The Bachelor/Bachelorette Party. Indy sounds like the former, and Beer Man could be the latter. In all fairness, you can only know so much from an online profile.

And this is the weird and difficult part. I really like them both. I talked to Indy on the phone for almost two hours. We had an amazing conversation about books, his life in Brazil, and our dogs. A few problems that could potentially mean bad news for us: he's an avid interrupter, and he has a lifestyle that's more homebody that social butterfly. He indicated in his profile that he got most if it out of his system, and doesn't want to go out as much anymore, even on the weekends. He also said, he isn't sure if he's willing to meet in person. I know what you're thinking: why are you even here dude?

Look, I enjoy sitting and home with my dog and reading. However, my hobbies and interests almost require me to have late nights and after parties. I would like to share that with someone. We're both seeking long term, which is good, but the more I meet new men, the more I wonder if stay at home girlfriend is what I need right now.

Beer Man lives in my neighborhood, which is filled with all the bars and restaurants to satisfy a foodie with an appetite for fun. After reviewing his answers to some of the questions to see if we had the same ideals, I had some hesitation. Whether or not he took these survey questions is still not clear. Basically, he is a sexual being and is okay to let people know. It's not to say I'm not myself, but I'm not answering any questions about my past sex life for all to see, nor am I here to hook up.

I barely chatted with him online and texted him before he asked for my number and if I'd like to meet for a beer.

Woah, cowboy.

I was definitely taken aback. Again, looking on the bright side, I thought two things: if he sees what he likes, he's going after it. He isn't twiddling his thumbs like Indy. And what else did I have to do on a Saturday night? I'm Jax Single Girl! I'm ready for adventure!

So I wore a dress, and quickly changed into jeans and a tank, because I thought my curves should not immediately be on display to a man who publicly answered that he likes to be dominant in bed. In practice with my first date rule, I kept it close to home and had an emergency text at the ready.

I can sincerely say that I had the best first date of my life.

When an adventurer meets another adventurer, the prospect of exploration becomes a journey of wondrous possibilities.

But we'll save that for the next entry...

Reality

In my utter moments of optimism with The Trainer, I have failed to mention one thing:

Much like OGM, he is a nomad. His job is contractual, forcing him to move around the country.

He has a meeting tomorrow discuss his time here.

While I am an eternal optimist, he has the sunny outlook of an Eeyore. Even when we talk I have to remind him of ways it could constantly be worse. I told him not to worry because why worry about what you don't know.

Sound advice I rarely take myself.

Being the usual sunny me, I forced the "I hope it goes well" line. Translation: I hope you stay. I was forward enough to ask "if you had your way, what would happen?"

I would change a few things, but I want to stay here. I've had one year contracts and have never wanted to stay with them.

...Promising. And vague. The smitten kitten in me hopes that I'm part of why he would like to stay in one place longer than a year.

I'm melting. I don't know if I should be happy or devastated. I never want to get in the way of upward mobility...but I am ready to settle.

I said it: I am ready to settle.

I'm not willing to give up the strongest parts of me. I'm not ready to put my feet up in stirrups and pop out ankle biters. That's not what I mean by settle. I mean...I'm ready to find the following:

- A hand willing to fit perfectly into my own
- A challenger who cheers me on in my hardest days
- A tender set of moments where I know that he's with me too
- The reassurance that we are in it together

There's a time in a single girl's life where she's done clicking dating profiles, chatting up/avoiding strangers in bars, waiting to see if her married friends have unmarried guy friends. I never said I wanted something immediate.

I think the word I'm looking for is stability. I have enough chaos in my life; other than my dog, who's going to take a moment to enjoy this chaos with me?

We still (supposedly) have a date on Friday. I can hear it in the voices of my friends. I know they don't want me to get hurt. They avoid this conversation with me because they know I've gone through enough trouble with guys and they're bracing for impact.

But...what is love (and the like) without the risk?

We spend so much time wasting away, worrying about where we'll be, who'll be there, and if it is all just and right. As for myself, I've spent too much time not worrying and giving all I have and getting little to nothing in return. It's such a fine line to walk.

Is it wrong to close my eyes, inhale a staggered breath, release the worry, and to just let my vulnerabilities go? There's no doubt; I have a lot to offer, which is why dating is so frustrating for me. The moment it seems that someone out there can be that hand, can challenge and cheer, will hold me and show me he is there, it all falls like sand through the fingertips. And sometimes I wonder if it's because, in many ways, I hold on too tight.

I bet this is how Freddie Mercury felt when he asked the desperate question: Can anybody find me somebody to love?


If you want me to be 100% truthful about it all, I want something special to happen between me and The Trainer. I cannot deny what my heart is feeling lately. This is the slowest I've ever taken anything in the dating world. The fact that I'm more excited about a first kiss is so new to me. By now, as in my past has shown, my toothbrush would be on his bathroom sink.

For now I am Amelie, once again melting into a puddle of longing and uncertainty. I could pray to things I believe and I don't believe, cross my fingers, eyes, and toes, but it won't change anything that happens tomorrow.