It's been a week and a half since the unsurprising end of my relationship with Mr. Something's-Not-Right, and I think I've made my way through the worst of the post-breakup funk. I credit the usual painkillers: lots of sleep, TV marathons (I'm getting good use out of my Sex & the City DVDs), a pint of hazelnut chocolate gelato, and a little time.
Something else that helped was that the day after we ended things, he sent me an "it's not you; it's me" email. He said he just wanted to make sure I knew that he thought I was amazing. Our personalities and lifestyles seemed like an incredible match, and he was frustrated that we were so likely to click and yet he had such an inexplicable disconnect. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but I deserved someone who could give himself to me 100%. He was already jealous of that guy. He also already missed me.
I thought it was a sweet, unnecessary gesture, and though it didn't make the situation any less depressing, it did take down my frustration a few notches. I wrote him back once and told him I understood. It was sad, but if he wasn't feeling that special something with me, then that can't be helped. Still, I thought he was a great guy and in spite of the way things turned out, I was glad we met and got to spend even that short amount of time together.
It felt like good closure. -–But I still miss him. I miss a lot of things, but I particularly miss just talking to him and knowing him. Since we had so much in common, dated for such a short time, and ended things more or less amicably, I've been toying with the idea of if we could one day be friends. Granted, it'll be a while until it could realistically be possible, and by then I may not even be interested, but it's an intriguing prospect that helps dull the sense of loss. Maybe it's just a crazy thought that's the mental equivalent of sleeping too much and eating too much ice cream. Legitimate idea or coping mechanism? Only more time will tell.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Finally, an answer
I went out with Lynn last weekend and told her about how I was still waiting for this guy I’m dating to figure things out. Though, I admitted, I honestly thought I could only handle another week or two of this indecision stuff before I’d have to cut my losses. It was just too hard, and sometimes I wondered why I was even putting myself through it.
“It makes sense. Even if things look hopeless, everyone has to let go in their own time,” she said. “Remember when I was dating that guy who admitted he loses interest in a girl after the beginning of the relationship, and even when he was eventually down to only dropping by for booty calls, I still didn’t listen to you and kept seeing him until I got fed up?”
“Yeah, that one time, didn’t you go his place directly after we met and chatted about how I thought you should dump him?”
“YES. And remember how after I broke up with still-technically-married guy, I still pined for him even though he was, well, technically married and didn’t see a future for us? We all do stupid things sometimes when we like someone.”
I told her I was aware that waiting was a stupid thing since this was probably going to end badly, but it was just hard to walk away. I didn’t want to give up too early and have to wonder what if things would have been better in a week? What if he would have actually made up his mind in my favor?
The more I thought about it, however, the more ridiculous it felt. If I learned anything from my last failed relationship, it’s that I want to be with someone who KNOWS he wants to be with me. If this new guy, no matter how great he was otherwise, was already wavering around month two, why in the world was I sticking around? Why was I wasting so much time waiting for him, not to mention letting myself feel bad about it, when I was already fairly certain what he would decide?
I didn’t want to put off the inevitable any longer. I wanted an answer already.
After some initial small talk and a few minutes of questioning, I finally got it. He said his problem was that something didn’t feel right. He finally defined the “something” further and said he felt a bit like things weren’t developing, that at times it almost felt like we were in a friendship with benefits instead of a relationship. (Ouch. I wasn't expecting that one.)
I told him it was still really early, and I didn’t get that vibe at all, but if that’s what he feels, it’s what he feels. It was still hard to pin him down on a decision, though. He continued to hesitate, saying he knew it was still early, that he thought I was really a catch, and that he felt things could potentially be amazing so he was reluctant to just give up. I had to question him specifically on whether he was ready to call this a done deal before he admitted he was so confused about things that he thought he had no choice and probably shouldn’t be dating at all right now.
That was hard to hear, but it was also what I needed to hear. Even though I wasn’t the least bit surprised about his decision, it was still disappointing and surprisingly heartbreaking. He was sad about it, too, and said he was kicking himself for doing this, even as he was going through with it. We both said we wished things were different.
It was tough for me to end the conversation. It was difficult to imagine not talking to him anymore, and I know I’m really going to miss him. I told him I hope he gets unconfused soon and finds what he’s looking for.
I guess I’ll have to keep looking, too.
“It makes sense. Even if things look hopeless, everyone has to let go in their own time,” she said. “Remember when I was dating that guy who admitted he loses interest in a girl after the beginning of the relationship, and even when he was eventually down to only dropping by for booty calls, I still didn’t listen to you and kept seeing him until I got fed up?”
“Yeah, that one time, didn’t you go his place directly after we met and chatted about how I thought you should dump him?”
“YES. And remember how after I broke up with still-technically-married guy, I still pined for him even though he was, well, technically married and didn’t see a future for us? We all do stupid things sometimes when we like someone.”
I told her I was aware that waiting was a stupid thing since this was probably going to end badly, but it was just hard to walk away. I didn’t want to give up too early and have to wonder what if things would have been better in a week? What if he would have actually made up his mind in my favor?
The more I thought about it, however, the more ridiculous it felt. If I learned anything from my last failed relationship, it’s that I want to be with someone who KNOWS he wants to be with me. If this new guy, no matter how great he was otherwise, was already wavering around month two, why in the world was I sticking around? Why was I wasting so much time waiting for him, not to mention letting myself feel bad about it, when I was already fairly certain what he would decide?
I didn’t want to put off the inevitable any longer. I wanted an answer already.
After some initial small talk and a few minutes of questioning, I finally got it. He said his problem was that something didn’t feel right. He finally defined the “something” further and said he felt a bit like things weren’t developing, that at times it almost felt like we were in a friendship with benefits instead of a relationship. (Ouch. I wasn't expecting that one.)
I told him it was still really early, and I didn’t get that vibe at all, but if that’s what he feels, it’s what he feels. It was still hard to pin him down on a decision, though. He continued to hesitate, saying he knew it was still early, that he thought I was really a catch, and that he felt things could potentially be amazing so he was reluctant to just give up. I had to question him specifically on whether he was ready to call this a done deal before he admitted he was so confused about things that he thought he had no choice and probably shouldn’t be dating at all right now.
That was hard to hear, but it was also what I needed to hear. Even though I wasn’t the least bit surprised about his decision, it was still disappointing and surprisingly heartbreaking. He was sad about it, too, and said he was kicking himself for doing this, even as he was going through with it. We both said we wished things were different.
It was tough for me to end the conversation. It was difficult to imagine not talking to him anymore, and I know I’m really going to miss him. I told him I hope he gets unconfused soon and finds what he’s looking for.
I guess I’ll have to keep looking, too.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Awaiting a verdict
When the guy you’re dating announces (twice) that he really likes you but is more or less debating whether to flee, what’s the next step? Do you keep to your separate corners and put things on hold for however long it takes him to figure things out? Or do you continue spending time together, averting your eyes from the pink elephant in the room, while he thinks it through? I had a hard time coming up with an answer. The truth was I still wanted to see him, but would it even be possible to keep things the way they were, and to continue putting myself out there, knowing he may have one foot out the door? Of course, as my sister suggested, there was always a third option: Break up with him and walk away from the whole confused situation. -–I admitted that made a lot of sense, but I wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
The worst part is that even though I know this problem likely has more to do with his baggage and issues than it does with me, I can’t help but feel a little inadequate. In moments of weakness, I wonder, Am I doing something wrong? Is the mysterious “something” that’s keeping him at arm’s length something that he thinks is wrong with me? It’s hard not to feel insecure when a guy you care about confesses he’s not all that sure about sticking around. Coming right after my “I’m not all that sure about marrying you” relationship, hearing that hasn't exactly done wonders for my ego. On my better days, however, I’m frustrated with him and think I deserve better, and I feel defiantly ambivalent about whatever’s going to happen. On one of those better days, I decided I could handle the inevitable awkwardness and would continue spending time with him, if he asked me to. Que sera sera.
For a while, I wasn’t even sure if he was going to ask to see me this weekend, but he texted me on Friday about getting together that evening, so I agreed. Seeing him in that first moment, for the first time after the second talk, was awkward. Surprisingly, kissing him again was not. Hearing him express regret over his “indecision” was awkward. Chatting over dinner was not. For me, the whole evening undulated between moments of normalcy and moments of trepidation. In spite of my attempts at a “come what may” attitude, I couldn’t help but also feel wary. I held back a story or two when we talked because I didn’t particularly feel like opening up to him anymore. When he asked me to stay the night, I declined. It suddenly seemed like a bad idea to let myself fall asleep in his arms.
We were supposed to get together for dinner tonight, as well, but he backed out at the last minute because he wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t his fault, of course, but there’s nothing like getting sort of stood up on a Saturday night by a guy who may or may not want to continue seeing you (and realizing you feel worse about it than you probably should) to make you wonder what you’re doing. Sure, I care about him and want to give this the best shot I can, but sometimes I wonder if I’m being optimistic or masochistic. After all, though I don’t know what he’s going to decide, I can't help but think that the odds aren’t in my favor.
The worst part is that even though I know this problem likely has more to do with his baggage and issues than it does with me, I can’t help but feel a little inadequate. In moments of weakness, I wonder, Am I doing something wrong? Is the mysterious “something” that’s keeping him at arm’s length something that he thinks is wrong with me? It’s hard not to feel insecure when a guy you care about confesses he’s not all that sure about sticking around. Coming right after my “I’m not all that sure about marrying you” relationship, hearing that hasn't exactly done wonders for my ego. On my better days, however, I’m frustrated with him and think I deserve better, and I feel defiantly ambivalent about whatever’s going to happen. On one of those better days, I decided I could handle the inevitable awkwardness and would continue spending time with him, if he asked me to. Que sera sera.
For a while, I wasn’t even sure if he was going to ask to see me this weekend, but he texted me on Friday about getting together that evening, so I agreed. Seeing him in that first moment, for the first time after the second talk, was awkward. Surprisingly, kissing him again was not. Hearing him express regret over his “indecision” was awkward. Chatting over dinner was not. For me, the whole evening undulated between moments of normalcy and moments of trepidation. In spite of my attempts at a “come what may” attitude, I couldn’t help but also feel wary. I held back a story or two when we talked because I didn’t particularly feel like opening up to him anymore. When he asked me to stay the night, I declined. It suddenly seemed like a bad idea to let myself fall asleep in his arms.
We were supposed to get together for dinner tonight, as well, but he backed out at the last minute because he wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t his fault, of course, but there’s nothing like getting sort of stood up on a Saturday night by a guy who may or may not want to continue seeing you (and realizing you feel worse about it than you probably should) to make you wonder what you’re doing. Sure, I care about him and want to give this the best shot I can, but sometimes I wonder if I’m being optimistic or masochistic. After all, though I don’t know what he’s going to decide, I can't help but think that the odds aren’t in my favor.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
This sounds familiar
Yesterday, we spent another long day together. It had rained the night before, a night that he spent at my place, and the sun had come out to reveal one of those beautiful, fresh post-storm days. We went to brunch and walked along an outdoor promenade for most of the afternoon and spent a lot of time chatting and window shopping. He seemed happy and at ease. He wanted my opinion on things he was buying, he took my hand in his as we strolled along, and we laughed a lot and swapped all kinds of stories. Later, we spent more time at my apartment and went to dinner, and when he finally drove home after midnight, I realized I hadn’t even been tempted to ask him about the weird talk we had before his trip. Lynn would have been proud. Maybe it had only been a momentary freak-out after all.
Looking back, I have been careful to take things as they come. I’ve let him set the pace of our relationship, but he hasn’t seemed hesitant to push things along. He was the one who first suggested we not see other people, he always wanted me to stay the night at his place or to stay over at mine, and about a week before he left on his last trip, he even surprised me by suggesting we plan a weekend getaway sometime. The weird talk has been the only anomaly.
I spent most of today running errands. We were trading the occasional text message, as usual, and when I was checking out at the grocery store, I got one from him that mentioned he was feeling kind of down. I asked him what he was feeling down about and crossed my fingers that it had nothing to do with me. Then, on the way home, I finally got his reply. It said:
“I still feel weird about us. It’s the reason I’m sort of holding back/distant.”
I actually cursed out loud in my car when I read that, which, though uncharacteristic of me, felt like the appropriate response. I couldn’t believe it. Those words were just so frustrating the second time around. I asked him what was so weird, and he said though it was originally the immediate closeness we both felt, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, now he just feels like something’s not right. He can’t pin down what that “something” is.
I wasn’t happy about getting the exact same vague answer a month after the first one. I told him it would have been nice if he had brought all this up in person. I said all the hesitation on his part was making me feel like I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I told him I hope he figures this out soon because if the “weird” feeling means he doesn’t think things will work out, I need to know sooner rather than later. And I said for what it’s worth, I like him a lot and think we have a good thing going, but I hope he can make up his mind about me.
He said he was trying to figure things out. He said he likes me, too, and thinks he’s lucky to have found me, but he’s also pretty confused. He said he’ll try not to drag things out but also doesn’t want to be stupid or rash.
I think it might be a little late to avoid the stupid part, but I could just be saying that because I’m still mad.
Looking back, I have been careful to take things as they come. I’ve let him set the pace of our relationship, but he hasn’t seemed hesitant to push things along. He was the one who first suggested we not see other people, he always wanted me to stay the night at his place or to stay over at mine, and about a week before he left on his last trip, he even surprised me by suggesting we plan a weekend getaway sometime. The weird talk has been the only anomaly.
I spent most of today running errands. We were trading the occasional text message, as usual, and when I was checking out at the grocery store, I got one from him that mentioned he was feeling kind of down. I asked him what he was feeling down about and crossed my fingers that it had nothing to do with me. Then, on the way home, I finally got his reply. It said:
“I still feel weird about us. It’s the reason I’m sort of holding back/distant.”
I actually cursed out loud in my car when I read that, which, though uncharacteristic of me, felt like the appropriate response. I couldn’t believe it. Those words were just so frustrating the second time around. I asked him what was so weird, and he said though it was originally the immediate closeness we both felt, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, now he just feels like something’s not right. He can’t pin down what that “something” is.
I wasn’t happy about getting the exact same vague answer a month after the first one. I told him it would have been nice if he had brought all this up in person. I said all the hesitation on his part was making me feel like I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I told him I hope he figures this out soon because if the “weird” feeling means he doesn’t think things will work out, I need to know sooner rather than later. And I said for what it’s worth, I like him a lot and think we have a good thing going, but I hope he can make up his mind about me.
He said he was trying to figure things out. He said he likes me, too, and thinks he’s lucky to have found me, but he’s also pretty confused. He said he’ll try not to drag things out but also doesn’t want to be stupid or rash.
I think it might be a little late to avoid the stupid part, but I could just be saying that because I’m still mad.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Holding my tongue
He came back last week.
I was nervous about what our reunion would be like. Would things be different? Was that "weird" talk meant to prepare me for another unpleasant revelation that he just hadn't put into words yet? Was I waiting for the other shoe to drop?
His flight came in late on a Sunday night, and even though I had to work the next morning, I was relieved when he wanted to see me right away. He came by my place around midnight, bearing gifts of candy and other sweets from his trip, and after falling into bed together, we stayed up half the night catching up and flipping through his photos before finally drifting off to sleep.
He wanted to see me again during the week, but I was unusually busy. I worked late one day and was going out with various friends for a few nights in a row, so we made plans for that Sunday. The day before, when I was out with Lynn, I caught her up on the situation. "Everything still seems perfectly normal. Am I supposed to pretend that conversation never happened? Should I ask him about it sometime?"
"Noooo. No way. If things seem great, then go with it. Don't ask him about that."
"Why not? I'm kind of in the 'let's just lay our cards on the table' camp."
"I don' t think that's a good idea. It could have just been a momentary freak-out. If he brings it up again, then you have a problem."
I was skeptical, but when another friend enthusiastically echoed Lynn's opinion, I relented.
That Sunday, he and I spent the day together, and by the end of the night, I was suddenly very aware of (and concerned about) how quickly I was falling for him. It seems dangerous to form a strong attachment to someone who has at least partially voiced some hesitation, but I've always jumped into relationships with both feet, and this has been no exception.
Though, as promised, I didn't ask about my new least-favorite word. At least, for now.
I was nervous about what our reunion would be like. Would things be different? Was that "weird" talk meant to prepare me for another unpleasant revelation that he just hadn't put into words yet? Was I waiting for the other shoe to drop?
His flight came in late on a Sunday night, and even though I had to work the next morning, I was relieved when he wanted to see me right away. He came by my place around midnight, bearing gifts of candy and other sweets from his trip, and after falling into bed together, we stayed up half the night catching up and flipping through his photos before finally drifting off to sleep.
He wanted to see me again during the week, but I was unusually busy. I worked late one day and was going out with various friends for a few nights in a row, so we made plans for that Sunday. The day before, when I was out with Lynn, I caught her up on the situation. "Everything still seems perfectly normal. Am I supposed to pretend that conversation never happened? Should I ask him about it sometime?"
"Noooo. No way. If things seem great, then go with it. Don't ask him about that."
"Why not? I'm kind of in the 'let's just lay our cards on the table' camp."
"I don' t think that's a good idea. It could have just been a momentary freak-out. If he brings it up again, then you have a problem."
I was skeptical, but when another friend enthusiastically echoed Lynn's opinion, I relented.
That Sunday, he and I spent the day together, and by the end of the night, I was suddenly very aware of (and concerned about) how quickly I was falling for him. It seems dangerous to form a strong attachment to someone who has at least partially voiced some hesitation, but I've always jumped into relationships with both feet, and this has been no exception.
Though, as promised, I didn't ask about my new least-favorite word. At least, for now.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
With great potential comes great … anxiety
The flip side of the blissful limitless-potential feeling that comes along with a new relationship is the maybe-this-isn't-going-to-work anxiety that crops up occasionally to warn you that things may indeed not last.
As much as I consciously know not to pin all my hopes on someone so early on, I couldn't help but do a little pinning (scotch-taping, perhaps?) since he and I have been getting along so well. It's almost strange how easily and quickly we've fallen into a comfortable couple mode, so when he dreamily mentioned that it seemed a little weird a couple weeks ago, I just smiled and agreed.
Then, when I saw him last, he mentioned it again. "I have kind of a weird feeling about us," he said. When I asked him what he meant, he couldn't quite pin it down. "I think part of it is that we feel really close but don't know each other very well yet." I could understand that, of course, as we've only been dating for about a month, but then he said something more concerning. "I feel like I've been holding back a little bit just in case the worst-case scenario happens and it's too weird."
Wait a minute. In my head I was doing a full stop and realizing that "weird" had suddenly become a very ominous and annoyingly vague word. Would he actually want us to stop seeing each other based on some indefinable feeling? His last serious relationship, a few years ago, ended badly, so I wondered if this was some recoil reaction to intimacy. I asked him to let me know if I could do anything to help him work that out, but since he was still pretty fuzzy on what he was trying to say, the conversation more or less ended there.
We went about the rest of the day as if nothing had happened and had another fun date (it sure didn't seem like he was holding back), but the word and its implications were never far from my mind. The next day, he left on a planned two-week trip overseas to visit a (female) friend, and that anxious feeling really reared its ugly head. (The timing of that serious conversation could have definitely been better.) I started having bad dreams … dreams that he was seeing someone else, dreams about being chased, dreams about a swarm of bees invading my apartment. My subconscious is apparently not happy. He's been emailing me periodically, which has helped, but there's still a week to go before he comes back. Until then, there will just be plenty of time to ponder the word "weird" and try to get a good night's sleep.
As much as I consciously know not to pin all my hopes on someone so early on, I couldn't help but do a little pinning (scotch-taping, perhaps?) since he and I have been getting along so well. It's almost strange how easily and quickly we've fallen into a comfortable couple mode, so when he dreamily mentioned that it seemed a little weird a couple weeks ago, I just smiled and agreed.
Then, when I saw him last, he mentioned it again. "I have kind of a weird feeling about us," he said. When I asked him what he meant, he couldn't quite pin it down. "I think part of it is that we feel really close but don't know each other very well yet." I could understand that, of course, as we've only been dating for about a month, but then he said something more concerning. "I feel like I've been holding back a little bit just in case the worst-case scenario happens and it's too weird."
Wait a minute. In my head I was doing a full stop and realizing that "weird" had suddenly become a very ominous and annoyingly vague word. Would he actually want us to stop seeing each other based on some indefinable feeling? His last serious relationship, a few years ago, ended badly, so I wondered if this was some recoil reaction to intimacy. I asked him to let me know if I could do anything to help him work that out, but since he was still pretty fuzzy on what he was trying to say, the conversation more or less ended there.
We went about the rest of the day as if nothing had happened and had another fun date (it sure didn't seem like he was holding back), but the word and its implications were never far from my mind. The next day, he left on a planned two-week trip overseas to visit a (female) friend, and that anxious feeling really reared its ugly head. (The timing of that serious conversation could have definitely been better.) I started having bad dreams … dreams that he was seeing someone else, dreams about being chased, dreams about a swarm of bees invading my apartment. My subconscious is apparently not happy. He's been emailing me periodically, which has helped, but there's still a week to go before he comes back. Until then, there will just be plenty of time to ponder the word "weird" and try to get a good night's sleep.
Monday, September 27, 2010
And then there was light
I didn't mean to leave this blog unattended for so long, but the past couple of months have gone by in a blur. I spent lots of time with family and friends, completely avoided the dating scene, and focused on getting my life back on track and getting myself back in a good mental/emotional state. Over time, it worked. I barely flinched when my ex left a sad-sounding birthday message on my voicemail in August, I easily ignored some miscellaneous drunk text messages, and I stopped being even slightly curious about what he was up to. Life just moved on, and I was OK with the fact that he was no longer a part of mine. Eventually, I started feeling better than OK. I felt perfectly comfortable being alone and was happy with my new lifestyle, and that's when I knew I was ready to put myself out there again and give this whole dating thing another try.
Back in June or July, when I was lamenting my single status with a coworker at an office event, he started going off on a tangent about how he thinks he has some psychic abilities. This topic of conversation led to some jokes and eye-rolling, but at the end, he told me, "Don’t worry. You're going to meet someone. I get the sense that you're going to meet someone in September. No, really! Just wait, and tell me if I'm right."
Perhaps it was a true psychic prediction, or perhaps it was just a self-fulfilling prophecy that lingered in the back of my mind all these months, but I met someone. On the last night of August, I finally joined a free online dating site, and that same night, I messaged a cute guy who had a really interesting profile. He wrote me back the next morning, and we spent the whole day exchanging lengthy emails filled with anecdotes about our personal histories. He seemed really smart, witty, and funny, and his messages always made me smile. By midweek, we were talking on the phone, and that weekend, we went on our first date.
Luckily, all my qualms about awkward first dates turned out to be unfounded in this case. What started out as brunch turned into a full afternoon of walking around near the beach and talking for hours, which turned into dinner, which led to watching a movie at his place and going out for a super-late midnight meal at the end of the night. It was a crazy more-than-12-hour marathon date, but it was a great time. Hanging out together was … easy and comfortable, and it somehow felt as if I had known him for a long time even though we had just met. We went out again the very next day. And the weekend after that. And the weekend after that.
I have to keep reminding myself that there's still always the potential for disaster. After all, four amazing dates does not a happily-ever-after make. Still, sometimes it's fun to let my optimism run wild. I had forgotten how exciting it is to meet someone new, and I can't help but enjoy this feeling of limitless potential.
Back in June or July, when I was lamenting my single status with a coworker at an office event, he started going off on a tangent about how he thinks he has some psychic abilities. This topic of conversation led to some jokes and eye-rolling, but at the end, he told me, "Don’t worry. You're going to meet someone. I get the sense that you're going to meet someone in September. No, really! Just wait, and tell me if I'm right."
Perhaps it was a true psychic prediction, or perhaps it was just a self-fulfilling prophecy that lingered in the back of my mind all these months, but I met someone. On the last night of August, I finally joined a free online dating site, and that same night, I messaged a cute guy who had a really interesting profile. He wrote me back the next morning, and we spent the whole day exchanging lengthy emails filled with anecdotes about our personal histories. He seemed really smart, witty, and funny, and his messages always made me smile. By midweek, we were talking on the phone, and that weekend, we went on our first date.
Luckily, all my qualms about awkward first dates turned out to be unfounded in this case. What started out as brunch turned into a full afternoon of walking around near the beach and talking for hours, which turned into dinner, which led to watching a movie at his place and going out for a super-late midnight meal at the end of the night. It was a crazy more-than-12-hour marathon date, but it was a great time. Hanging out together was … easy and comfortable, and it somehow felt as if I had known him for a long time even though we had just met. We went out again the very next day. And the weekend after that. And the weekend after that.
I have to keep reminding myself that there's still always the potential for disaster. After all, four amazing dates does not a happily-ever-after make. Still, sometimes it's fun to let my optimism run wild. I had forgotten how exciting it is to meet someone new, and I can't help but enjoy this feeling of limitless potential.
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