You Can Run but You Can't Hide

From your feelings, that is. You can avoid them for awhile, sure, by distracting yourself with anything you can find – boys, work, boys, running, boys – but eventually they’ll catch up with you and you’ll have to deal with them.

I am a master at avoiding my feelings; sometimes I hide them from myself so cleverly I literally am not aware that I’ve done it. They usually smack me down with excessive force well after the incident that caused them and then I’m stuck wading through them trying to figure out where they came from and why I ignored them in the first place. Ironically I often work through them while running.

I miss Summer Boy. There, I said it. I also said it in a text message I drunkenly drafted while out recently. I didn’t send it, thank god, but only because I’d deleted him out of my contacts after the first text I had sent him (which was a normal, albeit random, Saturday night text).

I have to say I thought I had already dealt with my feelings on this one. In fact, I’d been pretty impressed with how I hadn’t been missing him, how I hadn’t reached out when he left Chicago, how I really hadn’t felt any need to reach out to him since.

So what gives? I can’t tell if I miss him, specifically, or if I just miss having a go-to guy, but I do know that something has to be done about the weird, achy feeling I’ve started having on my insides.

I feel like I should go meet someone new, that as soon as I do I’ll stop feeling sentimental about Summer Boy, but I can’t help but drag my feet.

Because I hate dating. There, I said that, too. I hate it, and I don’t want to do it anymore and I don’t think I should have to. I was optimistic, I was hopeful! I went on many, many dates with all sorts of guys and I have nothing to show for it.

Come to think of it, despite a brief period around the start of the year I don’t think I ever really got back into first dates after I went on break last summer. My break of course, coincided with Summer Boy’s entrée into my life, which was unexpected and fun and easy.

So I guess that explains that. I miss Summer Boy because I hate dating. Therapy session over.

Free to a Good Home

Quite unexpectedly, Summer Boy and I crossed paths again and on a whim decided to go out for drinks. He and I have never gone out for drinks, and we haven’t spoken in months, either, but I simply couldn’t resist when the opportunity presented itself. Besides, he’s leaving the great city of Chicago later this month and deserves a proper send off.

We had an excellent time, next day hangovers notwithstanding. He is as great a guy as I thought he was and I still think we would have made a great couple.

We’re heading our separate ways, though, which means he’s available to a good central Illinois single gal. That’s right; I have the perfect guy for you! I never thought I’d be plugging an ex (although technically we never dated) on my dating blog, but the Universe sometimes has ideas of his own.

He’s quite a catch. He’s a guy’s guy, which in my terms means he knows how to use tools and a grill, and will humor only so much of your girly crap. He’s got a soft side, too, which makes for a nice balance. He’s a gentleman, but not the kind that makes a show of it. He’s athletic, and likes but doesn’t obsess over sports. He snuggles without smothering. He’s attractive, and not just looks wise. I think he’s one of those guys everyone gets along with. He loves his family, and I’m pretty sure wants one of his own. Also, he’s great in the sack.

Well, he is.

There you have it. Should you be interested, please contact me for further details and contact information. Serious inquiries only!

Good Luck Chuck

Way back at the beginning of our tryst Summer Boy had told me he was a “Good Luck Chuck”. I hadn’t seen the film but was aware of the concept. Basically a curse had been put on this guy such that all of his relationships ended, but any girl he dated (actually, had sex with) met her future husband directly after ending things with him.

Bizarre Sidenote: Duder had also thought he was a Good Luck Chuck. It never fails; the moment I hear something, it starts popping up everywhere.

Like most of the random things Summer Boy had felt like telling me, I wasn’t sure what the purpose of sharing this tidbit of personal information was. Was it more of an FYI? As in, when you’re ready to meet “the one”, end things with me? Or a suggestion that after sending several women (I think he said seven) on to their husbands that he thought he had found someone he wanted to stick with? Or was it presented as an option to me, to choose between the movie characters I wanted to be?

Well let's see... I could be one of the random women, who, after ending things (or having them ended for her) gets married to whomever I dated next, or I could be a blonde and hopefully less clumsy version of Jessica Alba's character that gets slightly stalked by Chuck. And then stuck with him in Antarctica studying penguins. Not sure either option is all that great.

Turns out I wasn’t either of the ladies in that movie, and neither Duder nor Summer Boy was the Good Luck Chuck they proclaimed to be. At least not for me... followed by The Bowler and Marathon Guy, respectively, and we know how things are going for the latter. Or not going, I should say.

Ultimately I think the Good Luck Chuck phenomenon was presented more like a silver lining, floated to me as a way of apologizing for being someone I didn’t see things working with. Or even worse, as a way of apologizing for oneself in that self-deprecating manner I simply cannot stand. Summer Boy even brought it up again when I officially re-ended our communication. His exact words included “toast to the fact that you were able to rid yourself of me” and “if your past history plays true at all you will probably be falling in love within the next couple of months anyway”. Ugh, good riddance I say.

As to falling in love in the next few months, I hope I do.

The Answer to Your Question is Yes.

Yes, I still have feelings for Summer Boy. Yes, I still talk to him (although I haven’t seen him). Yes, I think my indifference to Marathon Guy’s declining interest in me is being made possible by this chatting. Yes, I know I should cut if off. Again.

I know what you’re thinking. You didn’t ask those questions, did you? You should have, dear readers, for you should know as well as I do that there’s no such thing as a clean break in matters of the heart. For all my bravado in the face of Summer Boy’s rejection I had really fallen for him. I really thought things could have worked out, and possibly still would.

They won’t, of course, I know that now (read: am still working to convince myself this is true). And although I’ve appreciated the Fantasy Football advice he’s given me, it’s clear that he’s on the receiving end of this relationship. That man needs friends like I need a tight end that consistently gets into the endzone.

I do sort of feel bad for him, he’s obviously missing the part of one’s social scene where one has people to talk to about their lives with, to ask advice and bounce ideas off of. I myself don’t need a new friend, I very fortunately am blessed in that area, but I sense a trend in my dating life: MEN WHO NEED WOMEN TO LISTEN TO THEM.

I can rattle off a string of men who want to talk to me all the time but not actually date me… Summer Boy, Marathon Guy, Surf Dude. They like to tell me about their day, about their friends, about what they had for dinner. They are happy to text about sports and they want my opinion on work situations. They often want to know what my plans are, but they don’t ever suggest that they be part of those plans. What am I doing to keep finding myself in this situation?

I am a lot of things, but a therapist isn’t one of them. I don’t have the patience for it, and honestly, I’m not even that good of a listener. I do take a pretty hard line on personal boundaries and standing up for one’s self, and I’ve often been able to find a socially acceptable way to call people out on their inappropriate behavior. It’s been helpful to my engaged girlfriends, so why not single men missing an intelligent, decisive female in their lives?

Yes, that’s exactly what Summer Boy had needed. Someone to encourage him to move if that’s what would make him happy. Someone to support him in removing himself from the crazy, dangerous situation his friends kept dragging him into. Someone who understood him and thought about his best interests when responding.

I can see how someone like that would be someone you’d want to keep around. I can see, too, that I need to stop being that someone, until I find someone who is capable of playing the same role for me.

I hope he got everything off his chest, though, because yes, he’ll now be getting the swift kick to the curb that he deserves.

It's Not a Contest, but I'm Winning

At least I wasn’t the one to fold first. Isn’t that what’s most important, after all? The one who can hold off without you the longest wins?

I have to give it to Summer Boy for choosing an appropriate subject for re-entering chat mode, feigning interest in my alma mater’s football game. I say feign because later that day, when I decided to respond, he rescinded his good luck wish for my team when I smartly refused to support the team he supports. What? He didn’t even go to school there. And we had covered that I hated Notre Dame. The only time I’ll cheer for them is when they play OSU, which they weren’t, and even then it was a lesser of two evils situation.

Of course that wasn’t the end of it. Text messaging about football loyalties shifted to why we were chatting at all which shifted to me sharing more of my angry feelings I hadn’t shared before when we ended things. And then he actually gave me his side of things.

It was your classic I’m going through my own “stuff” and don’t want to add any complications or drama to my life and I wouldn’t be able to give a relationship the time and attention it needed so I didn’t want to lead you on in any way.

> Except he did, kind of, because he hadn’t mentioned any of that to me, despite me having brought up the possibility of a relationship.

He also mentioned having started with an open mind about where things might lead, until he decided he was going to move down to central Illinios, at which point he “shut things down”.

> Except he hadn’t, shut things down, that is, until I pushed him to choose one side or the other.

I had wanted his reasons, but once I got them it was so clear that I didn’t actually need them. Not because they were so vague, but because it didn’t really matter. We wanted different things, and while I do wish he would have told me sooner, I (fortunately) don’t think I wasted any time on Summer Boy. He was, in a lot of ways, exactly what I had needed.

So what if he didn’t want to date me. The summer of fun was over and I was well on my way to replacing him. Have I ever mentioned how much I love the fall?

Failed First Dates: Batter Up.

I didn’t waste any time moping over Summer Boy but instead revamped the text on my OK Cupid profile and prepped myself for the weeding through of undesirable prospects that inevitably comes with online dating.

It hasn't been too bad, though. I’ve been contacted by some seemingly decent men and am thinking about reaching out to some even better seeming men myself. I even agreed to go on a date!

It was to one of the last Cubs games, which is a bit of a stretch given how long they can run, but as all of my gals kept reminding me, how bad could it be? I’d just be sitting there drinking beer and eating hot dogs.

Except my date doesn’t drink.

Oh of course he insisted it didn’t bother him when other people drank, and indeed he seemed fine while I drank a few beers during the game, but I was pretty sure this one fact alone would be a deal breaker for me. The truth is, alcohol is part of my regular social scene, and it would make me very uncomfortable dating someone who didn't drink. I would feel like an alcoholic. All the time.

That’s the reason I used when I said I didn’t think it would work out between us, but I could have chosen one of many, as it turns out.

Like say, introducing me to family. On the first date. Turns out his brother was at the game, too, and he came over to join us mid-way through the game. He’s a police officer at the station right by my house! And a cuter version of my date, I might add.

Or inviting me to his cousin’s wedding for which he was a groomsman. I politely declined, not because it was “serious” as he suggested, but because it’s weird to invite a stranger to a family wedding. Plus, I don’t think it would be any fun for me to show up at that kind of event not knowing anyone (including him, even). Don't get me wrong, I'm great with a crowd of strangers, but it's not the right venue.

Or displaying a startling lack of knowledge about the career one says they are pursuing. After a few years in landscaping-type sales my date was trying to get into the Sheriff’s program for a leg up into getting into IT work for the Justice industry. “IT” he says, “you know, computers and stuff”.

Okay, that last one was a bit mean. But as someone who actually works in IT and can explain the “stuff”, it was hard to continue that conversation without making him seem like an idiot.

Truthfully I think I just wasn’t ready yet to meet someone new. This guy wasn’t Summer Boy, but pissed as I was at that jackass I couldn’t help but make comparisons.

There’s such a thin line between wanting to feel wanted and actually wanting to meet someone new. At least I had toed up to the plate.

Oh No He Didn't!

In the end I went with drunk texting as the mechanism for ending things with Summer Boy. I had started with a simple email on Sunday stating that I thought that whatever was happening between us had run its course. I was too riled up to blow him off entirely, but I thought I’d “take the high road” by ignoring the questionable timing of the CraigsList posts entirely.

Of course I didn’t hear anything back from my email, so Monday when I got home from work I hopped right onto CL to see if he had posted anything. He had, that bastard.

There he was, with his stupid same picture he always used, looking to see if anyone wanted to go to the open mic comedy night at this bar by his place. An exact date he had suggested he and I go on a few weeks earlier (but never followed through with).

Oh how he was hurting my pride! Oh how I wanted to scream and shout and stomp! Oh how I should not have had so much sangria!

The text messaging that ensued next was not my finest moment in breakups but it did help me get a much clearer perspective on Summer Boy and how detached from the reality of our situation he seemed to be.

Me: I would have gone to the comedy show with you! But I hope you found a new friend.
Him: Well... I would have asked but as you put it 'things have run their course'.
Him: But just so you know... I am at the comedy show by myself.

Right. He hadn’t mentioned getting together on Monday as late as Sunday evening when I sent him my “it’s over” email but I’m sure he would have. Eventually.

Me: Look, the timing of your posts makes you seem shady. Or like I’m your last resort. Which is fine, just a bummer for me. Plus I am looking for someone a bit more available. So it seemed like a good time to stop trying to see you, and find someone who was more into me.
Him: Well... I can tell you I am not seeing other people and up until the email I got from you I was going to see if you wanted to join but next thing I knew I was being stonewalled.

Stonewalled? I sent one email saying I thought things were over. It's not like I'd been refusing to talk to him about it.

Me: Then why all the CL posts? I would have believed you b/f I saw them. Seems you are looking for someone else. I didn't like the feeling so I thought I would cut out.
Him: Posted and then never really read the responses... just deleted them.

Liar, liar, pants on fire. Practically the only reason to post on CL is to read the ridiculous responses!

Him: And you tried to make me feel bad for posting yet... seems like you were checking…
Me: Please. I only just saw them. I was out there b/c it seemed things weren't going anywhere with you.
Him: Funny... same reason I was out there... hmmmm
Me: Bullshit. I try to see you all the time.

Is it me, or has his whole defense been to blame me? I’m being shady because I’m out on CraigsList reading his posts? The ones he posted while he was texting me about being somewhere else after turning down my suggestion to do something that same night?

It also did not go unnoticed that he flat out ignored my accusation that he had lied the prior Friday (in texts not re-printed), which only made it seem more likely that it was true. And I’m not sure what he thought he would gain by constantly pointing out that he wasn’t seeing other people. We were ALLOWED to see other people. We had a NO STRINGS ATTACHED relationship.

It was stupid, initiating a texting war while angry and tipsy. It was childish, him throwing back all my questions instead of simply answering them. And it was infuriating, he had completely missed my point, which was that he wasn’t interested in spending time with me, which, by all accounts, he wasn’t.

It was useful, though, because it gave me what I needed. It was over.

Eyes Wide Open.

Over the next few weeks Summer Boy and I did sort of take steps towards more of an actual relationship, we scheduled to hang out in advance and even went out to dinner! Mostly, though, we continued to have trouble meeting up in person.

Although it was split pretty evenly between him and me not being available when the other tied to initiate something it started to feel like I was the only one making any effort to make room for him in my schedule. As much as I liked him it was getting kind of pointless, all that chatting and texting but never spending any real time together. What was the point?

I reached my breaking point one Friday when Summer Boy had told me he was booked for the rest of that week and weekend. We ended up texting that Friday – I thought we might be able to meet up later – and he told me he was babysitting. In the suburbs. For his friend.

What grown man babysits for friends who live an hour away, in suburbs that are teeming with teenagers willing to babysit, unless it’s an emergency? Clearly I wasn’t ranking anywhere on his priority list. Clearly I never would.

So the next morning I turned my dating profile back on and checked CraigsList. And there he was. Everywhere. All posts exactly like the one I had originally responded to. Sunday morning - before he had asked me whether I had "missed" an email from him, and mid-week, and even the night before. He had posted about wanting to go out for happy hour drinks approximately 2 hours before telling me he was babysitting in the burbs.

I AM AN IDIOT. Obviously he wasn’t available to do anything with me because he was looking for someone else to do things with. Even on days when I had tried to see him. I mean, it’s fine if he was seeing other people, and certainly it was fine he was looking for something other than what I had to offer, but I couldn’t get past feeling like he’d lied to me.

Lied about where he was that Friday, specifically, for no reason whatsoever. He’d always given me all this detail that I never asked for - I assumed it was because he used to date someone who always made him give them the where / when / with whom. And I didn’t care, truthfully, if he wasn’t available I would have been happy for him to just say "No". But now I was thinking maybe it was so I wouldn’t ask any questions, so I would just take him at his word.

I AM A COMPLETE AND TOTAL IDIOT. I had believed him, because I hadn’t had any reason not to, and now everything he’d told me was thrown into question. Certainly whatever I thought was happening between us was not.

My eyes were open, but I could barely see through the tears of surprise, hurt, anger and indignation that were suddenly overflowing them. Who the hell did Summer Boy think he was?

And more importantly, just who the hell did he think he was dealing with? I am a lot of things, but I am nobody’s fool. I felt like an idiot, yes, but I wasn’t one. Looks like Summer Boy was due for some eye opening of his own.

Tick-Tock

I realized why I had kept missing the window in previous relationships as soon as I told Summer Boy that I would be interested in dating him. Telling someone you want to date them basically means you’ve requested that the relationship move forward, even if it’s at some nondescript point in the future. The other person has to decide whether they want to move forward with you, and they can’t take forever to decide.

Having never told a boy before that I liked him first I had had no idea! In not wanting to miss the window I had actually started the clock. And it was counting down.

Whoops.

Even less exciting, it seems I had not correctly interpreted Summer Boy’s non-stop chatter about relationships. He rejected the idea that he was a relationship guy… saying he hadn’t called anyone his girlfriend in years, that he hadn’t introduced any of the recent gals he’d been involved with to any of his friends (something about them not being able to hold their own – although he added he thought I would be able to) and that he wasn’t sure whether he was ready to adjust his lifestyle to having a girlfriend again. He didn’t fully reject the idea of dating me, mind you, just completely disagreed with me when I explained where my statements about wanting to date had come from.

Actually, I think I interpreted him just fine. Whether he thinks so or not, relationships are on his mind, otherwise he wouldn’t constantly be talking about them. I think it’s entirely possible that Summer Boy is even more terrified of relationships than I am.

I had meant what I said to him, though, about not wanting to move immediately to a full-blown dating relationship, so technically we could keep going as we were for awhile. If it turned out we wanted different things, I’d at least have made my intentions clear.

I had no idea how much time the Universe put on relationships clocks, but I couldn’t imagine there was any reason to panic. Yet.

Baby Steps.

Once I started thinking about the content of all the chatting Summer Boy and I were doing, I realized something. He talked a lot about relationships. A LOT about them. I submit the following into evidence:

1. He told a lot of stories involving the phrase "I was dating this girl at the time"… and definitely referenced exes who continued to be interested in him long after he had cut ties
   
2. He called me from a bachelor party that he found tedious, and later assured me that at HIS bachelor party they would not be going to a strip club (they would be golfing)
   
3. After giving me the low down from a wedding he had attended that got way out of hand (The bride punched some dude. At a bar. In her wedding dress.) he mentioned that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to top that at his own wedding
4. He said his friends were “living the good life”, with kids, a dog and a big house
5. He suggested that if and when either of us started seeing someone else, even casually, that we tell the other person about it. Originally I had agreed, but then I rescinded my agreement when I realized that sounded a lot like a no-strings attached monogamous relationship.

I’m pretty sure I can chalk up the prior girlfriends speak to him wanting to make himself seem desirable (or believing he was that desirable), but was I missing something? Was Summer Boy trying to suggest that we move towards an actual relationship? The thought was worrying on several levels.

I have a long and storied history of missing signals... of ignoring where relationships are leading only to miss the window of opportunity and be saddened later to realize (a) that I had really card for someone and (b) that I had missed my chance. I didn’t want that to happen here, I didn't want to lose Summer Boy.

I’ve also recently been considering the possibility that I have a serious road block to relationships that has everything to do with me and nothing to do with the men I’ve been involved with. That when I’m faced with a relationship that has somewhere to go I do something that would be destructive to it. Like meeting up with an old flame or disappearing for awhile, and almost always refusing to share or address my feelings (with him, with myself, with the friends who don't know me well enough to know I'm full of it).

It was terrifying, and ridiculous, being so afraid to tell someone you liked them.

But then it just happened. A perfectly normal, flirtatious conversation about sexy time turned into an admission that I'd be interested in being seen outside of the bedroom with him, in the context of an actual relationship. I said it wasn’t something I thought we needed to do anytime soon, but something to consider.

I felt nauseous. But also proud of myself. Baby steps to dating. Maybe I should get a gold fish.

Pillow Talk

All that nonsense with the Karaoke King happened during the sexy time blackout with Summer Boy. Despite the blackout, communication remained high – emails, texts and even a phone call towards the end of my lake house vacation.

Communication was actually one of the reasons I liked Summer Boy so much. Even from the beginning there had been lots of pillow talk mixed into the sexy time. We covered all the bases – work, family, social life – and I had kind of gotten used to talking to him on a regular basis.

The longer our scene went on, though, the more I couldn’t decide how I felt about it. I definitely liked the chatting, and I’m pretty sure without it I wouldn’t have been as into him in general. I was worried he just needed a friend, though, that he just needed to talk to someone, not that he wanted to talk to me, specifically. And even if it was me that he wanted to talk to, I wasn’t sure the content of our chatting fell within the bounds of our loosely defined relationship.

Offloading about your crazy work day, fine. Discussing your latest running split times, completely appropriate. But breaking down the last few times you’ve eaten meat (a burger the night the Hawks won the cup and once or twice where he had a slice of pizza with some meat on it) even though you had decided to give it up and how you were waiting to give up sweets because you were a sucker for cake and your niece’s birthday was coming up? That’s not sexy or interesting.

If I was going to have to keep up with all the going ons of his friends (and also their names) shouldn’t I get something in return? Like dinner? I certainly wasn’t getting extra sexy time for all that listening.

Ah, there it is. That nagging feeling that my carefree, no strings attached summer fun scene was creeping into the realm of relationship land. That’s not what I had signed up for! Maybe once our schedules aligned better we could lay off the chatting and get refocused. I certainly hope so, I don’t think I’m ready to start reading Summer Boy’s food journal.

Beer + Sausage = Love

Right around the time I found Summer Boy I heard back from a guy I had emailed on OK Cupid some three months earlier. He’d shown up in my matches but hadn’t been online for awhile, and I had apparently emailed him suggesting that if he did come back online to let me know. When he did, I looked back at his profile and couldn’t quite figure out why I had reached out in the first place.

He turned out to be an interesting guy, though, professing to be a Karaoke King, a runner, and the owner of NFL season tickets (sadly not for the Bears). I had mentioned in our conversations that I was heading to Maifest that weekend, the sister event of my most favorite festival in the city, German Fest. He suggested we meet up there to share some delicious brews and if things went well, perhaps I’d give him a polka lesson. Obviously I’d be hoping for a better result than last year’s debacle.

It seemed like a good idea, especially since I was already planning to be there and could always slip into the crowd with friends if it didn’t work out. It wasn’t until the day of that I started to second guess myself.

For starters, Summer Boy and I had spent some time together that morning. Things were going so well with him – I didn’t want to do anything that would throw a wrench in that well oiled machine. I was also pretty sure that The Bowler was going to be serving beer at the festival. I could only imagine how awesome (read: awkward) it would be to buy beer from him, with some new guy, just after I’d ended things with him. Oh right, I’d be drinking all that beer, too. Who knows what I’d feel like saying or doing after the 2nd stein!

I did see The Bowler, with the very first beer purchase I made. He was on the other side of the beer counter and fortunately I saw him with enough time to drop to the ground and hide instead of making eye contact. I’m a lot of things, but mature in front of an ex is not one of them.

I also saw Marathon Guy, blast from last year’s past, sitting with a group of friends. Again, I was quick enough to maneuver myself out of his line of sight. I’m not sure he would have remembered me, but why chance it?

I even got some texts from Summer Boy, who was getting mystery texts from someone and wondered whether I was sending them from someone else’s phone, which I obviously had not.

The only guy I didn’t see was the Karaoke King. He bailed, saying something about the rain forecast and not wanting to get wet on his bike. He would have gotten wet, it flat out down poured for about an hour towards the end of the night, but then he also would have gotten to huddle with me underneath the big tent, sharing a pretzel.

I should have known better! No matter how many guys I run into, the only love match to be found at German fests is bier. And we are a perfect pair.

Summer Lovin’, Had Me A Blast

When we last left our dating heroine (me) she had rid herself of a dud (The Bowler) and found herself a stud (Summer Boy). Not too keen on the effort it took to formally date while blogging about said dating, I went on a break. I didn’t just take the summer off from blogging, though; I freed myself from making any actual relationship decisions as well. It was awesome!

Turns out there’s a market for a lady without an end game, who doesn’t ask herself (or her date) questions about where they see themselves in 5 years or whether they want kids. Turns out you can really enjoy getting to know someone who you find interesting, but know you’ll never see again. Turns out there really isn't a better aphrodisiac than good old-fashioned alcohol.

In refusing to entertain the possibility of a future I was able to really enjoy the present. I worried less about how my actions would be taken and instead did exactly what I felt like. Not every decision was a good decision, and navigating the casual relationship world requires a very different skill set than the one I’d been cultivating, but I have no regrets.

I do have some good stories, though, and before summer ends I think a little kiss and tell is in order. Consider the next few posts your online trashy beach novel.

Hey There Summer Boy

Although I had decided things were over with The Bowler last weekend, it took me awhile to let HIM know that because he was out of town, road tripping with friends to help them move. In the meantime I happened upon something sparkly to play with.

It started the way it always starts. Sitting on my couch with my laptop, a glass of sangria in hand and trashy reality TV on in the background, scrolling through the miscellany that is the CL personals section. There wasn’t anything particularly interesting in “LTR” so I hopped over to “Casual Encounters”. Mostly I read through it to figure out what the kids are doing these days, followed by looking terms up on Urban Dictionary, but this time I found a gem: A post from a runner who was home recovering from a big race and looking for someone to chat with.

No details on his intentions, just the invite to chat. He was CUTE. I was bored. I don’t think I’ve ever had success responding to a post, in fact I don’t think I even get responses back to my original emails, but I sent him one anyway. To my delight he responded back.

We transitioned to IM chatting, where I asked him about the Casual Encounter posting. He said he meant to put it in LTR, which led us to the “what are you doing on CL / what are your intentions” type conversation. Let’s say we established that neither of us was looking for a serious relationship, per se, but that we were basically open to a wide variety of options. One of those options being a casual sexy time get together. That night. At my house.

We have the sangria to thank for my initiative, and The Bowler for my most recent frustrations in the bedroom, but full blown throwing caution to the wind? I can only cite a gut feeling that he wasn’t a psycho.

I was not wrong. And I was not disappointed. I wasn’t disappointed the next night, either.

I’ve never pulled off a casual relationship successfully, but this level of commitment sounds about right given all I've put into dating lately (and how little I've gotten back). I think I’m entitled to a little summer fun.