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."