Sara is going to bring me a book on love addiction. I’m not sure that’s my problem. I think it’s more an attention addiction. I’m inclined to believe anyone who reads my writing would agree.
WFB took me to a mystery dinner theater last Friday. I can be a bit socially awkward, so I spent a large portion of the night following him with my hands in the pockets of my dress while he interrogated suspects. He seemed to balance my nerves well, as he pulled one of my hands out and used it to drag me around the room. He wanted to stay the night with me, so after dinner we watched a movie and went to bed. I was feeling a bit odd that we’ve been out five times, yet I’d not been to his place. As if reading my mind, he said we’d have to do something closer to his place soon so I could meet his roommate and her dog. I invited him to my friend’s show the following Friday, but he was going to be busy with a friend’s rehearsal that night and wedding Saturday. He commented that he wished I would go to the reception so I could meet his friends and we could dance together. We’ve talked about taking dance lessons, and if things progress we’re going to look more seriously. I said I’m too socially awkward and wouldn’t feel comfortable attending a wedding to which I wasn’t invited when we’d been dating such a short while. He kind of frowned then tackled me on the love-seat. When he left for work the next morning, we didn’t make plans for our next rendezvous and that always makes me a bit nervous. I have a habit of psyching myself out of a good thing because of my insecurities. I remember on our first date when he said he wasn’t a fan of text messaging because he felt people should communicate in person rather than through technology. I try to remind myself of this when I’m stressing that we haven’t communicated in two or three days. What I need to do is relax and realize I can initiate. Wednesday, he sent me a couple of pictures with a great caption. He had attended the Chiefs game on Monday (where we walloped the Patriots!) and the Royals game on Tuesday (holy shit we’re in postseason for the first time since I was 2 years old! AND we’re doing well!). He was excited and wanted to share that with me. I thought it was awfully sweet and felt silly for being so caught up in my head. He wanted to see me Thursday, but I had plans, so we’re doing something tomorrow evening.
Last night, Matt and I were out and about watching some friends play at a local venue. After their show, and several beers, I decided it was time for dancing. Luckily, Matt follows me around to ensure I’m not making terrible life decisions when I’m intoxicated. The fellow I took home a couple of weeks ago decided that last night at 11:00 pm was the perfect time to strike up conversation, even though our last exchange was the morning I dropped him off almost two weeks ago. He called me six times. SIX TIMES between 11:00 pm and 2:00 am. He was at a bar nearby watching the baseball game and I’m sure he just wanted to hook up. I was distracted by my need to dance. We danced a bit, then I realized I was alone on the floor. I’m used to Matt ditching me somewhere and I was sobering up fairly quickly, so I wasn’t worried when Dark and Beardy came over to dance with me. Told me his name was Jeff. “Great!” I yelled toward him. “That’s my ex-husband’s name!” He must not have heard me or at least wasn’t fazed enough to comment. He danced with me and we chatted. He’s one of those 35 year old guys that looks younger with his ginormous beard and perfectly messy on purpose hair, so no one bats an eye at this older fellow checking out the early 20-somethings at the bar. He lives close to the district, so I’m sure he’s out there every weekend night hitting on the ladies. He was wearing a Canadian Tuxedo and, though I wasn’t feeling it, I chatted with him while trying to decide if I should drive home or call a cab. Matt reappeared and asked if I was okay. He left a bit disgruntled because I was obviously handling myself just fine without supervision. Long story short we dance a little, he doesn’t put his hands on me (I would have probably yelled at him if he did), and he asks for my number. I give it to him and tell him I’m heading home to bed. He says he’ll text me and I say “if you’re a real man, you’ll call me.” He raises his eyebrows, realizing I don’t fuck around. I get in my car and head home, wishing it wasn’t 2:30 am and I could cuddle with WFB. Then I get a text from not-my-ex-husband Jeff:
NMEH Jeff: Shit! Where did you go?
Me: You must have missed the part when I said I was going home because I was tired.
NMEH Jeff: Oh I got that. I just dreamed of an end where I’m going down on you… (Seriously? Does this work on ladies?)
Me: I don’t get intimate like that with fellows I’ve just met, so enjoy that dream… (So this was a little white lie. I’ve done it in the past, but I might actually be *gulp* falling for WFB.)
NMEH Jeff: I will! I just want to tell you you’re gorgeous and seemed smart: An appropriate sex fantasy for me!
Me: Thank you? I hope you get home/arrived home safely. Have a good night.
I wasn’t in the mood to indulge this drunk monkey any longer and went to bed. In fact, I’m not really in the mood to indulge any one else’s attempts to get in my pants. Does this mean I’m ready to be exclusive with WFB after dating him for only three weeks? I need to keep my options open, but it’s so hard when there’s a real connection. I’m not talking about a connection like I’ve had in the past, where I’m in constant worry about the state of my relationship with a given fellow, but rather a connection where I don’t feel the need to be in constant contact or have constant validation of his feelings for me.
I’m excited to see WFB tomorrow. I have no idea what we’ll be doing, but there’s a large possibility it’ll start with me tackling him with hugs and kisses.