Curbing my enthusiasm

I am working hard to follow my wise mother's advice not to act too eager with Theradate. When he begged, cajoled and pleaded with me to accompany him to a friend's barbecue and party last Friday night, I steadfastly said no. He asked if I'd consider playing hooky at work and going with him to Northampton; I refused. When he suggested we sign up to take a cheese class in July, or maybe just go to France and eat cheese in July, I said we should concentrate on making plans for the next week, not two months into the future. He asked if I wanted to take a drive up to the nudist lake in Vermont I went to as a child, and I told him I was not going to any nudist places with him for a LONG time. And last weekend, as we were kissing in his car, one minute I was thinking, "Damn, Theradate is the cutest thing EVER. I could kiss him all night. And think how adorable our babies would be! They'd have unkempt Tom Waits hair, beautiful dark eyes, and incredible hats." The next minute, my inner monologue said, "Heathen, BACK THE FUCK OFF. Remember what your mother said." And I did. I think I deserve some kind of medal for that.

Inside my head, unfortunately, it's not so easy to contain my excitement. Theradate makes my heart beat fast and my tummy feel a little bit fluttery and kinda nauseous. It's like being on drugs, and it's awesome and stressful at the same time. As scary as it is to like someone and not know what will happen, I do know that Theradate is a solid guy and a first-class communicator. So, I am officially giving myself permission to get a *little* bit excited.

Still, sometimes I think about how much easier it is to date guys I feel ambivalent about. Hmm, I wonder if 95% is still single?

Chocolate Extravaganza

It's T-minus 5 days until Theradate's chocolate party, which I have been looking forward to for weeks because a) it's a chocolate party, DUH b) I'm smitten with Theradate and c) two of my best girlfriends, Slinky and La Chimiste, have agreed to make the trek down to check it out with me. 

The invitation: 

It's been way too long since we gathered together to pop some corks, tell some tales and make some trouble. Plus, three times in the last week alone I've run into folks at Whole Foods who've asked when the hell we're going to have another shin-dig at my place. 

So--mark your calendars for the evening of May 31st, and we'll gather together over here for some good old-fashioned frolicking as we usher in the summer.

Our agenda for the evening is full: we'll hang around, watch the sun go down, and while away the evening as we sip, gab, gossip, strum, sing, tempt, talk, hint, laugh, play, dance, tickle, incite, incant, expound, inspire, dissuade, deter, concur, demur, infer, imply, amuse, guffaw, refrain, condone, support, provoke, suggest, submit, present, applaud, uphold, prevail, proffer, further, foster, mingle, make, meddle, and more. 

Bring a friend. Bring three. Doors are open to all. (Scoundrels, scofflaws, strumpets, and scalawags strongly preferred, and will find much company.)

As usual, grab a few of your favorite musical instruments, racy poems, embarrassing stories, small animals, party games, improbably ideas, out-of-circulation drachmas, or whatever else tickles your fancy.

The Council of Culinary Consiglieri have decided on a food-theme for the gathering: CHOCOLATE-FEST, 2013. 

For those of you who haven't been to one of these gatherings before: no one needs to bring ANYTHING apart from their own good selves. However, anyone who feels like trying out new recipes on an unsuspecting but appreciative crew of slightly tipsy heathens--feel free to bring whatever you like related to the current food theme, e.g. "chocolate". Willing mouths await.  

WHO: You and whomever else you feel like bringing

WHAT: Party

WHERE: My house

WHEN: Friday, May 31st. Sunset is at 7:21 PM, if you want to be here for that. Otherwise, come on by when it gets dark. We'll play into the night, until everyone's done playing. 

WHY: I dislike that question

HOW: We'll figure it out

xox

-Theradate

P.S. Even though my past attempts to solicit RSVPs have failed continually and miserably, hope does indeed spring eternal, so I'll give it another go: "A quick RSVP would be molto apprezzato. Grazie!" That way I'll know how many bags of chips to get. 

Best. Invitation. Ever. 

Reality check

Theradate is personable and charming and likable, and it's hard to remember sometimes not to get too excited about him. He's been sending a steady stream of sweet texts and long emails, not to mention a tantalizing invitation to a chocolate party. Plus, I like him. But he's far from a sure bet, so I need to work to contain my enthusiasm.

I texted Slinky to that effect, asking her to please slap me as a reminder.

Little did I know that I had no need to ask Slinky for such a favor, as the person sitting right next to me could provide exactly what I needed. I was on a Greyhound bus (or "hell on wheels" as I fondly call it) with my mom coming back from New York -- a far cry from the comfortable Acela ride we were expecting that was canceled after a train wreck on Friday. As the bus inched along, it became increasingly clear that I was not going to make it back to Boston in time for Theradate to pick me up at South Station and take me to dinner as we had planned.

He suggested we meet later in the week instead. I told him I couldn't; I had plans with Slinky. But then Slinky graciously offered to rearrange our plans.

"Slinky doesn't mind postponing drinks, so I'll let Theradate know I can get dinner after all," I informed Mom.

"Well, who knows if he's still free," Mom replied.

"But that was only 20 minutes ago that he suggested Tuesday," I reminded Mom.

"My point exactly. Who knows how many women he's texted in the last 20 minutes to ask out to dinner," replied Mom in her most pragmatic tone.

I couldn't really argue with her. The woman had a point.

Later, Slinky checked in to make sure that dinner plans had been confirmed. "I guess all the other women Theradate asked to replace me turned him down," I reported, "so he's stuck with me."

Thanks, but no thanks

Theradate has not been making it easy for me to stick to my resolution to ignore him. He's been "liking" lots of photos of me on Facebook (prompting me to wonder if he really likes me or only "likes" me). He also invited me to the premiere of a movie he's starring in. The only communication I'm not getting from him is an invitation to spend time with him without his 500 closest friends. Until said invitation arrives, I will continue to studiously ignore his advances. (And by "ignore," I mean thank him for the invite to the premiere but lie and say I have plans that night, but I look forward to seeing it when it's available on the Internet.)

I gotta admit, though: I am DYING of curiosity. Should I take my roommate up on her offer to go with a video camera and make me a bootleg of it??

The Slow Decider

I'm a slow decider. It takes me a few months to decide if I really love a new item of clothing, or new jewelry. It's not just a process of looking and deciding whether or not I objectively like it; I need to wear it for a while and see how it feels on me and whether or not it feels like a match for me. 

And boyfriends are no different. My feelings about exes tend to gradually morph and change shape over time. Sometimes they mellow and improve, like old wine or fine cheese; other times they behave more like rotten vegetables. Nearly four years after La Moustache broke my heart, I am finally ready to think about him as a nuanced person with faults as well as good qualities, and I even wrote him a couple of friendly emails this winter.  It took me a few years after our breakup, but I now consider l'Artista to be a good friend and one of the best exes one could possibly ask for. Dreamy, on the other hand, is like one of those vegetables that dry up and shrivel in your vegetable drawer. He's not really ever on my mind, not because it's painful to think about him but just simply because I don't feel any connection to him.

Monkeyboy, though a brief affair, is someone who I avoid thinking about because it's painful. In just a few short weeks he managed to win my trust, then break my heart in a way that seemed like it should be impossible in such a short time frame. His last communication with me was a note in which he refused to see me to talk about the breakup, and I don't foresee ever contacting him or hearing from him again. Leif Ericson is another one who I don't think about much, though in his case it's more because he just wasn't so memorable. By now I think more often of the delicious concoctions his friend cooked up than I do about Leif himself, whose personality always seemed a bit amorphous, probably because he was an alcoholic. And, although I only went on just four short dates with him, I continue to have a big soft spot for Theradate, to whom I managed to recount my entire life story on our first date and STILL have plenty to talk to him about on our subsequent dates. I ran into him at the movies a couple of months ago, and giggled when he told me that he managed to cry four times during 56 Up (I'm still not sure how that is humanly possible). He checked in with me after the bombings a couple of weeks ago, making sure that not only was I ok but asking about my sister and brother-in-law, too. He can be a bit over-the-top, but he's sweet.  

These days I'm dating 95%, and am beginning to wonder how I'll think about him in a year's time or two. He's kind and thoughtful and would do anything to make me happy, but after three months of dating I still don't feel that I really know him. He's smart, interesting and a great match for me in many ways, but I'm just not as excited after three months as I probably should be. 

Meanwhile, Theradate contacted me a week and a half ago to ask me to get together. He had told me when we broke up that he wanted to stay in touch, so I was happy but unsurprised to hear from him. I didn't really have time to see him, but I said yes anyway. It turns out he didn't really have time to see me, either, and he ended up canceling, saying he'd rather get together when we both have the time to hang out, maybe spend a weekend afternoon together. I didn't feel disappointed when he canceled. 

Still, it got me to thinking about Theradate, and a few days later I found myself doing some Internet research about him. I found out that he seems to be recently single, which made me wonder if his contacting me was in fact just the friendly gesture I had initially interpreted it as. I decided to check in about when we'd be hanging out. This led to an increasingly frustrating series of texts that went along the following lines: 

TD: Heeeeey!! Love to see you. I'll be in Boston twice this week: on Tuesday for a business dinner and then again on Friday. 

Me: Cool! Maybe we can get a drink before your business dinner or after?

TD: Not sure. There's a slim chance my dinner could be over by 9 so maybe we could see each other then. If not, I miiiiiight be able to squeeze you in on Friday before my plans. I'll check in with my colleague about Friday. 

Me: Let's aim for one or the other. Which one seems more likely?

Then, feeling that this was becoming ridiculous:  Theradate, much as I'd love to see you, all these "maybes" are making it difficult to plan my week. Let's postpone until you have a time when you're sure you're able to hang out. 

TD: Totally understand, Heathen. We'll do that. Sorry for all the craziness -- my schedule should be more open in a couple of weeks. 

Me: Okay, it would be fun to hang out the weekend after next if you're around!

Then,, in a last-ditch attempt: Any chance you are free for a beer tomorrow?

TD: Would LOVE to see you but I'm heading to Boston in rush hour traffic and I have to be there right after I'm done with work!!! 

At that point, I growled at my phone and gave up. Maybe it'll happen someday; maybe it won't. In the meantime, I'm finding myself thinking about Theradate and feeling annoyed at myself for doing so and annoyed at him for reappearing and making me think about him all over again after MONTHS of not thinking about him, but seeming incapable of making plans that don't include a "maybe."