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?