Don't think about elephants

Leif's got pasta skillz

Leif Ericson continues to be charming and kind, and he helped me make an amazing batch of beet ravioli with my new pasta maker two days ago. He also continues to be flaggy. I resolved not to think about him much or be in contact with him to try to minimize my attachment to him. This is difficult, because I have an attachment disorder (probably because I breastfed for a long time as a baby) that makes me attach too easily.

An hour or so after I made this resolution, I got a text message from Leif asking how I slept last night and if I had heard about the Supreme Court decision yet.

Two hours after that, I saw the news on Facebook that the Coen Brothers are making a sequel to the Big Lebowski -- Leif's favorite film. Real or hoax? I'm still not sure. Obviously, I had to pass on the news.

After receiving his excited reply, I went on OkCupid to try to find some new men to go out with. Guess who came up as one of my first suggested matches??

Grrrr.

Well, maybe leaving the country will help. Peace out, folks, I'm heading to Canada. (For the weekend.)

Flaggy

Leif Ericson is very sweet and very cute, but he's also a little bit flaggy. As in, yellow flaggy (no reds so far). He has three yellow flags; the most prominent one is that he's terrible at getting in touch after dates. After Date 3, I had to wait four long days before he contacted me to schedule Date 4. By the time he got in touch, he was lucky my weekend still had a little bit of time in it for him.

So, I decided to initiate a Diff Con about it with him on Date 4. I tried to address the root of the problem: I mentioned that he doesn't get in touch very much, and told him I'm confused about how interested in me he is. I got some valuable information from the conversation. But afterward, I worried that I hadn't been very clear in expressing that I'd like him to be in touch more. Then again, do I really want him to be in touch more? Having little contact with him between dates is a reminder that we don't know each other well and is helping me not get too invested. I like how cautious he is -- after dating lots of non-cautious guys who turned out to be duds, caution is a characteristic I value a lot -- and I want to be cautious, too.

Two days after Date 4 ended, I got an email. The title of the email: "It is Tuesday."

I guess he got the message after all.

Subconscious commitment

I told Leif Ericson that I don't quite know what to make of him. (His response: "That makes sense, since you don't know me that well. But feel free to ask anything." Hmm, touché, Leif.) Case in point:

Following date #4, Leif reported that he spent all night last night dreaming about me. Some of the dreams were good, some were bad, but he could only remember one enough to tell me about it: Someone had died, a distant aunt or uncle (unclear if it was his or mine). We were headed to the funeral. He felt stressed and took a Xanax, and I got upset with him. In an attempt to placate me, he went out and bought me a sticky bun and coffee.

It seems that Leif's subconscious has skipped the courting and honeymoon phases and gone straight to the nagging wife/henpecked husband phase. I'm not sure if I should be offended that I'm nagging him in his dreams or take it as a positive sign that he knows that the way to placate me is with a sticky bun.

"How about me? What did I do in your dreams?" he queried.

"You weren't in my dreams," I said, feeling vaguely guilty.

I guess my subconscious isn't as ready to commit as his.

How to date a guy with no doors in his apartment

Uhhh, well, I really don't know how. But it looks like I'm going to have to figure it out, because it's probably not realistic for me to go pee at Starbucks every single time, like I did today.

Ideas, anyone??

My mom always taught me that if you say one negative thing you should counter it with at least two positives. So: He keeps a little pot of honey next to his bed for midnight snacks, like a bear. His house is full of plants and feels like a rainforest (so full that a few came home with me). Drinking prosecco on his roof is magical.

The no-door-on-the-bathroom thing is a real doozy, but the positives certainly outweigh the negatives.

The Death Phase

A few years ago, my mom's parents died within a few months of each other, and my mom went through a Death Phase. She thought about death all the time, and was prone to saying things like, "There's no point in buying that, since it'll just become clutter for you to take care of one day." My friend Miami Nice came to visit during the Death Phase, and started telling my mom about this book she had read called Stiff, about dead bodies. "I would loooooove to read that," said my mom, eyes wide, as I made "cut!" gestures to Miami while Mom wasn't looking. Once, my parents texted while I was out celebrating a friend's birthday, and I didn't reply. The next morning, I took a shower, and by the time I got out of the shower not only did I have multiple voicemails of increasing desperation from my parents, but I also had messages from several friends. My mom had convinced everyone -- even the friends who I had been out with the night before -- that something terrible had befallen me. Nope, just taking a shower!

My landlord's mother had a heart attack recently and is now in rehab, and he seems to be going through a Death Phase of his own as a result. I told him I am moving out. He said he doesn't want me to, and he won't raise the rent if I'll stay. But then, he said he thinks I'm doing the right thing. "You're not getting any younger," he reminded me. "Oops, did I just say that out loud?"

He gave me the following advice: Never go out for dinner. No drinks out. Save up like crazy, because I'm going to need $3 million to get me through my last years. I can do it, as long as I live like "a cheap bastard" (his words). "You never know, you might find yourself old and with no one to take care of you. I might, too," he said, just before he walked out.

Quite the reality check. And I thought cheap rent meant I could go off austerity measures.

Action in the bullpen

I've been crazy busy lately. I'm thinking about moving and starting to plan for it. I have two interviews on Monday. I'm working on creating a curriculum for my summer job, which starts the day after school ends. And, like I've said before, I've been dating a LOT the last few weeks -- I had triple headers (three days of consecutive dates) the past three weekends. During the third-to-last one, just before I met up with Leif, I found myself smiling and nodding at my smart, interesting date and thinking, "Please stop asking me questions. I'm too tired to answer them." Not good, since a boyfriend who doesn't ask questions is the last thing I want.

I've gotten so busy that I've stopped putting any effort into dating. But somehow I need to find the time to do so, because what with my diminished effort recently, I find myself with no dates lined up. The 27-year-old who bought me dinner last week seems to have gotten the message that I'm not interested. The handsome Indian doctor wasn't interested in me. And then there are a few people who have contacted me who I never bothered to reply to, which means no action in the bullpen to distract me from Leif Ericson. I need distraction, because even though it's only been two dates, I have been thinking about him a lot ever since we went out last weekend. I'm trying not to get attached, but it's hard when I've met his people, gone sailing with him, and spent so long smooching on the street that we needed to find something for me to stand on so my toes didn't get tired (he's very tall). In between running around trying to get stuff done, I find myself daydreaming about him or signing into OkCupid just to see his tiny little photo next to his old messages to me.

So, I'm forcing Leif out of my head, burying myself in my work, and accepting a date from a non-Internet man who asked me out yesterday. And if you see my gazing off into space with a silly grin on my face, please kick me.

Searching for the trifecta

Ever since my landlord's revelation late last week that he's raising my rent, I'm officially now searching for the trifecta: a job, a boyfriend and an apartment.

The good news is I'm making headway in at least some of those areas. Back in New York, my Wise Woman noted that I frequently used the word "charming" to describe my boyfriends. (In that astonishing/helpful/sometimes annoying way that my Wise Woman had, she remembered my descriptions years later and would repeat them back to me verbatim.) I still like a charming man; who doesn't? I certainly wouldn't want to date someone who is NOT personable, outgoing and funny.

But lately, I've noticed that the word that I use most often to describe men I like is no longer "charming." A new word has come along: "gentle." And while there are lots of other words I could use to describe Leif Ericson -- funny, intelligent, and interesting come to mind -- I really like his gentleness. We went for a pretty sail on the Charles today, and he was patient and kind while giving me sailing lessons. I also appreciate that he's willing to break the rules and invite me to meet a whole slew of his friends at a barbeque on Date #2.

I found a pearl in my oyster at the barbeque, so I think I may be in for some good luck! Cross your fingers for me that the trifecta will come along, sooner or later.