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.

Dating: Shopping Without Buyer's Remorse

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

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


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



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

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

Ah, but what about The Trainer?

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

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

(Red lipstick can make any girl feel glamorous)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Castle, My Rules...Right?

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is there anything stopping you from walking away"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Fly, Butterfly, Fly

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

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

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

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

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

"...Yes, I do. Well kind of"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Well...damn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If I Lay My Heart on the Table

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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



(Source: zenpencils.com)

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

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

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

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

And then there's TD.

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

And then...

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

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

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

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

Fire & Ice

The day after the seemingly disastrous meeting with The Dragon, I was still pretty optimistic.

Because of unpredictable weather, we decided to forgo a Harley ride and opted to go ice skating instead (his idea). I jokingly said that he's not allowed to laugh if I bust my ass...and I will be nice when he busts his. He said he'd make no promises. Charming, I thought.

It was about to be disastrous again. Rain makes people suddenly forget how to function, especially when driving is involved. What would normally be a 15 minute drive became 45 minutes because of a major pileup on the highway. Maybe I could just turn around...


Alas, I ended up at the skating rink. To my surprise, TD had his own pair of skates. He apparently forgot to mention he's a former hockey player. Well...there goes me trying to look all cute and legit on an ice rink. As we were lacing up, we made small talk about family and friends, our jobs...the usual first date chatter. We also joked that this is what was supposed to happen the night before. This is much better, I said. I knew from the few words that we could hear and say at the club that he was worth getting to know.

I'm finding that he's a bit of a walking contradiction. There are some things that would normally make me wince, but others that make what I think is strange forgivable.

Let me tell you a tale about a cop who enjoys fruity drinks.
He played hockey, but has the worst luck with his health.
A cancer survivor who wanted to join the military but they can't accept him because somehow cancer is a liability.
That's how he ended up in law enforcement.
A bad case of appendicitis almost put him out of work entirely.
He knows how to fly a plane.
Because her family disowned her, he adopted his friend as his sister so she would know the love of family still existed.
While he sniffles from allergy issues, he owns a cat that looks like Hitler.
A Dexter fan who plans on going to law school, he takes vacations regularly and hopes to own many properties over his lifetime.
In the free time that he's not trying to win me over, he likes to tinker with elaborate security systems and create them.

Wait...what?

There were many moments in our conversation skating side by side on the ice that I wondered what the hell I was doing with my own life. The question of, "other than fire what do you do for fun" is always an awkward one. I always feel like I don't have time for other things, aside from the expected adult responsibilities.

It really was befuddlingly charming. After awhile on the ice he chuckled and said that it was highly amusing that he took the "badass fire girl" to the ice skating rink. It's true. I was out of my element. I felt somewhat forced to account for myself with some of his questions, like what else is there to my life. I didn't have implements to deploy and distract the dragon. Again, he kept trying to peel these layers to find out who I am at my core.

Then I thought of one of those two-hour conversations I had with Indy. He likes to read and understand people.

"Not everyone likes that. Some people like to have their secrets, and not be found out"

Well...damn. It's true. I keep thinking that I've made peace with my ghosts of dating past. There's still a brick wall in front of me when it comes to love, but I'm slowly finding the weaker spots to poke through, and remove that which protects me. It's not to say that I don't want to reveal every part of me to a lover, nor do I want to show the most perfect side of me all the time. It's just wondering how much of me should I reveal right now?

Let's face it: I showed the endearing, intelligent side to Indy and The Trainer, the wild child to The Adventurer, and with The Dragon...It's like unraveling ribbon in water. Slowly, hesitantly, but with the right force, willingly.

But stepping toe first on the ice seems like a good start. Later that day after a few errands, he asked if it would be okay if he watched a show we both like together. It happened to premiere that night. I was slightly taken aback (who invites themselves into my life?!), but I agreed. Before that, he suggested since I was on his side of town, to meet his cat and see his place.

Okay...he's a cop. He can't possibly try anything fresh. I mean, seriously, he drove his patrol car to the skating rink. It's not a front. But I think he was trying to reveal himself as this upstanding, adjusted adult who is worthy of my time. No secrets. Dude, I have stuffed animals everywhere, laundry in each room of my house, and my house smells like dog. I can't be this great girl he's been searching for.

He has a sweet cat, and his place is well-put together, security system and all. The lights were all motion-activated, so each room he gave me a tour of immediately lit up. You're damn right I called him out on how geeky it was...kindly, of course.

After the tour, he said he could just follow me to my place. He was walking towards his patrol car and jokingly told me not to speed. Telling me not to do something is the fastest way to ensure I do, I said. He gave me a smirk before getting in. On the drive to my place, I wondered if I would eventually get to see a wild side. Pilot, motorcyclist, cop? All the while he was mild, so I thought maybe it's okay for me to peel some of his layers too as much as he's tried to see all that's in me.

He really does have a strange schedule. I guess it's the life of a cop. After my immediate freak out at the Dexter season premiere, he asked if I wanted to have a late dinner. Why not, I said.

Same inner dialogue: I kept wanting to unravel his inner layers and much as he wanted to figure out what's beyond the "badass fire girl who walks home by herself."

We sat outside at a local restaurant, teeming with locals wanting to grab a beer on a late Sunday evening. There were talks about where we wanted to travel and about his goals. Whenever I talk to someone ambitious like that, I feel slightly inadequate. My goals don't extend beyond wanting to be the best version of myself so I can bring light into the world. He asked why I hadn't considered home ownership before and I told him I basically didn't want to get tied down. There is so much out there. Obviously that speaks for more than just home ownership. Obviously, commitment is risk, and if you know my track record, I'm really horrible at it.

The reasons I restarted this adventure is to discover what's out there; if there is someone wild enough to run with me. What's amazing is that I keep finding that there are men who can, and the ones who I think can run beside me in a blaze of glory actually get overshadowed or left behind. While The Dragon has revealed to be fairly mild, the dangerous side that I tend to relish in men takes a peek behind the curtain.

We've been on a couple of dates since, and I often the humbling question: am I forcing myself to like him? Think about it: look at your most recent significant other. There are bound to be things you cannot stand. I mean, where is the line between being nit-picky and accepting things as they are.

My burlesque mommy is screaming in my ear again: Don't settle

Regardless I like getting to know him. To study him, as Indy would say. I'm accepting that not every date or every guy I talk to is going to have that immediate rush within me where I just "know" this guy is it. TD and I warming up to each other. The Trainer and Indy took their sweet time. Things moved way too well and too fast with The Adventurer. But I can appreciate this pace with TD. Really...I think he is good for me. I tend to forget that part about dating.

After all was said and done, he walked me to my doorstep and gave me a gentle first kiss. Innocent even. Laying in bed thinking about all of the day's events I could sincerely say I was pleased. I never believed that true love or the like had to be immediate, though childhood fairytales would like to encourage us otherwise.

Some people say you can't rush destiny, and that these things should happen naturally. Others warn that hiding yourself from the possibilities is detrimental to one's self, and that it's in our nature to be curious and discover the possibilities.

But this is my adventure: a hardened heroine with the best of intentions seeks the prize of meaningful affection. During the course, hearts are slayed, and she suffers minor defeats. Once in a while, she finds a worthy suitor who she believes can help her find the prize.

That's a good fairytale. A great fairytale tells a story of how the suitor helps her win and fights the good fight with her...

And encourages to fight with what's in her. To defeat the monsters and fears within her.

Maybe The Dragon can be her guide.

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.

The Hesistation of Using Training Wheels

You're wondering when I was going to bring up The Trainer. I call him that for a couple of reasons. The most obvious one is that he is, in fact, an athletic trainer. Or, if you know me personally, you would call him an upgrade.

After messaging other guys on a dating website, I came across his profile. The first thing I noticed was his adorable friend: a sleepy puppy, cuddling against his master. The second thing I noticed was his bright eyes.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you are watching a death-defying act and you stutter a gasp? That's how it felt. I swallowed that gasp and opened up a message to compliment him on his eyes, along with his snoozing companion. This athletic and handsome guy couldn't possibly message me back. I was incredibly wrong. It was immediate. He accepted the compliment and we got to talking. What happened next surprised me: the conversations seemed natural.

I know, I know. How is that surprising? The fact that someone still wanted to talk to me. While it's never right to put one's self down, I couldn't get past how natural talking to him was. Some people call that chemistry.

Saturday night light chatting turned into Sunday morning texting. All day. It definitely helps that we had a lot in common, so conversation didn't get stale.

Naturally I was excited about the whole matter. Later I met with a friend of mine for dinner and mentioned him and how I felt like I was on training wheels for dating again. With reassuring eyes, she said that no matter what happens, I at least don't have to worry about expectations.

Come again?

When she explained it, it all made sense. Other than what I had read of him online, I didn't have other people's opinions about him, whether they were good or bad. If anyone has been set up by a friend, he or she knows that there is an image of this strange, new person you're about to meet. If it doesn't meet your expectations, you're let down and it's a bust. However, if it goes well (as it sometimes does) not all is lost. But it made me wonder.

What was I expecting out of this?

After what happened with CSB, I now know that I need in a partner, and that I have standards I'm ready to upkeep. The only expectation I had was to not waste my time on something less than deserving.

After almost three weeks of talking back and forth we were set to meet. Sadly, we hit a speedbump and life happened to him, so we had to call a rain check. What made this better was the words he said: I still definitely want to meet you.

Be still my mending heart.

That was nice to hear. And his curiosity about me made me curious too. I knew I wanted to meet him, but I was taken aback at how genuine that statement felt. It wasn't forced. None of this has been forced.

Is that what's supposed to happen?

I feel as though I'm a kid, in a neighborhood street, learning how to ride a bike again. Internally I'm begging to have the training wheels removed, but on the outside, I look as though I still need them.

This whole process has been a lesson in starting over and doing it the right way for myself. Not the easy way, not the apathetic way, not the "we'll-figure-it-out-later" way.

So far, he is a good trainer.

I could gush and go on about what we've talked about: books, our jobs, our dogs, our work, but that's not what makes it compelling. What does is that epiphany that this guy is good for me. And he probably doesn't even realize how important that is to me.

This is why I was eager to meet him, to study him, to understand what it is about him that makes me feel great. We've gone out on two dates and the scary part is admitting how much I want this to happen...and how I am willing to wait for it to get better, even if this feeling doesn't end with him.

So I'll slowly prop myself on the seat, carefully put one foot on the pedal, and then the other. With my head facing forward, head held high, I start to move with the training wheels, embracing how they are helping me take the next step without any fear.

Where oh where to begin?!

Dating happens.

Falling in love happens.

Falling out of love happens.

Breaking up, unfortunately, happens.

FINDING OUT VIA TEXT SHOULD NOT HAPPEN!

I could write all day and preach about the importance of communication, and the importance of being a doting partner and a willful lover. But really, it would do no good. That and while he did fail me, I too failed myself. My friends told me I let too much go, and didn't stand up for what I wanted.

Human connection in any form is what I wanted. Someone to talk to everyday is also what I wanted. A boy to take care of me late at night (open to interpretation, by the way) is what I wanted most times. And guess what? That's what I got.

I didn't get what I needed. The hardest lesson (and the most humbling) is realizing that I was in this alone. He started to stray and I kept my blind optimism, as I usually do. He didn't take away from me; I took away from myself.

More than anything after The Great Text Dump of 2013 (we'll get to that soon, don't you worry), I sulked in my room, caked in tears, mad at myself for letting this happen to me. I should have seen the signs: less talking/texting, less staying over, less kisses, and more awkward hugs. Maybe he was just busy and stressed with school, I thought. Clearly I was wrong.

I felt like
Carrie in Sex and The City getting dumped with a Post-It Note. I don't recall, but maybe her message was much nicer than mine.

"Sorry if I treated you like a rebound"

Wait...what? Clearly, that was news to me.

I sat at the bar that cool Wednesday night, crying shamefully with two of my friends. He was right, I thought. I was only a rebound.

So I did what any girl does in these situations: I got my hair done, threw myself into projects, and posted insanely sad stuff online. Hell, I even adopted a dog. She saved me from continuing to feel so worthless.

However, there is magic in the struggle for clarity. Because of this, I finally understood that it was okay. And if it isn't okay, it would be. My support system reminded me of the usual things people say in this situation: it's his loss, you're beautiful, he's awful, you're amazing, etc.

More than that though, I had to learn to love myself again and be happy on my own. That's where the dog comes in. That's where throwing myself into running happened. I accomplish way more on my own. I am still learning what I need. But the fact of the matter is, his horrible text taught me that it is okay to be sad, angry, and heartbroken because the end result is that it forces me to deal with my dating failures as a stronger individual.

Suffice it to say, I don't feel worthless currently. In fact, I feel empowered. Not being with CSB helped me understand that it's time now for me to focus on what it is I need out of life, which isn't just love or something we try to make feel like love. It's enlightening to think of all the things I've done myself without someone by my side.

I know you're probably wondering what it is I discovered about what I need. Well...

I need a partner.

Someone who wants to take care of me as much as I can take care of him.

Independence.

Goals.

A good listener.

A cheerleader.

While these discoveries sound so obvious, I must say it was humbling to finally embrace them. I'm not getting old by any means, but I am at the point in my life where I am not settling for someone  less than deserving of changing my last name. All of those needs? I deserve them.

So I took a break, played with fire, cuddled a mutt, read some books, signed up for some races, and in the interim, decided to check out online dating again. After two weeks of courageously messaging potential suitors, and dodging guys with names like YourRealPrince and MrGoodbar, I talked to someone who seemed worth my time.

Bright blue eyes, a subtle smile, and an adorable dog caught my attention. His ambition, our conversations, and his curiosity about me is what held it.

Let's call him...The Trainer.