Nothing says love like puking in your boyfriend's car

The first time you REALLY get drunk with someone is a memory to cherish.

I had planned a small get together with 20 of my closest friends at a local Irish pub - a get together that I pre-partied for via two glasses of wine shared with my mother when I dropped off my son at her house, and continued through 1 40 of Mickey's that I shared with DD in the car prior to even entering the bar.

I was feeling pret.ty good before even walking in to greet my friends.

The great and terrible thing about birthday at bars are that people buy your drinks like it's their JOB.

You mix shots with fruity drinks with beer with...oh my.

The bonus of the evening that I can remember is that DD holds his own remarkably well in a crowd of mostly strangers. I don't have to babysit him, he doesn't follow me around and I find that I AM the one making my way over to him for some drunky smooches more often than I would have expected.

Things get a little foggy towards the end of the night, but I do find myself outside either chatting or observing chat with a couple of friends when DD hugs me from behind. I turn, lean into him, and nearly pass out on the spot.

"Are you okay?" he asks, pulling me away from him to look at me.

I shake my head "no" apparently unable to speak.

"Do you want to go home?" he asks.

I nod my head "yes."

He laughs and says "okay, let's go say goodbye to your friends" and parades my drunk ass around for goodbyes.

Somehow we get lost on the way home (he tells me the next day that I gave him bad directions). I am in and out of consciousness, although he pulls over once when I think I might puke up the salad, piece of pizza and various forms of liquid libations I've indulged in that evening.

Unfortunately, he's not pulled over when my body finally decides to purge itself.

I recall him saying "oh, lord..."

The next thing I recall is being drunkenly mortified, closing my eyes and telling him to drive and that I will take care of it.

I shower to get myself clean, wrap myself in a towel, dig out the clorox wipes and march outside to fix one of the more horrific things I've ever done in the presence of new boyfriend.

I'm not sure how long I spent cleaning the door and bottom of his car, but I know that when I finally return upstairs, he is asleep on my bed.

Happy Birthday, Little Red. Good job. You are clearly older and wiser.

Dear jealousy, take a friggin' hike...

I am sitting at my desk one morning last week, reflecting on the fun birthday weekend and dutifully trolling facebook when I see that my man-friend has sent me a message. I grin, read it quickly...and stop grinning.

The message reads:

"Not to be paranoid but went to rsvp since im about to go to the dentist, but what is this about?

Hot Lawyer:
Damn, I won't be able to make it. Have a good birthday anyway. I do expect that we all meet up in August several time since that will be my month of debauchery and liquor.
June 23 at 3:10pm

Little Red:
bring on the month of debauchery! i've been waiting for this for MONTHS...I guess you probably have too...
Friday at 12:39pm ·

I even looked up the meaning of debauchery to double check to see if i thought it meant something it didnt but here is what I found.....

debauchery:(plural debaucheries)

1.Indulgence in sensual pleasures; scandalous activities involving sex, alcohol, or drugs without inhibition.
2.(archaic) Seduction from duty.
So I guess an explanation would be helpfull of what this means....."

The context of the re-post is from the little facebook event I created to invite people out to a bar to celebrate my birthday. Hot lawyer, who you may recall from earlier posts, was referencing a joke made by me regarding his very limited ability to have any fun between his graduation, the bar and his enlisting in the marines.

Now, let me just tell you that I read DD's little message and had a knee-jerk, intense "I don't have to fucking explain ANYTHING to you, sir" reaction. I don't like to be questioned, and this smacked of jealous stupidity.

However, I thought, I can nip this in the bud playfully and replied:

" [DD] I love you and you are very paranoid. I'll elaborate on the reference if you feel like you need to ask me again in person...which i hope you don't. :-) Hope that tooth has an easy fix and not a painful expensive one (though I know how those dentist things can go). xoxo."

I thought this was light-hearted, loving but firm in my belief that I should NOT be being questions about this ridiculousness and he should take a flippin' hint.

He clearly did not take it lovingly when he hopped on facebook chat to say:

"wtf? I ask for an explanation and I get your paranoid, I hope you dont need me to elaborate...whatever Lindsey its an easy question to answer but if its beneath you then I guess I probably am as well..."

WHOA! Whoa, little doggy, whoa. Did we just jump to a fighting place? I'm so caught off guard by this reaction that I don't even respond. He signs off and I text him:

"I don't know how to respond to this. I don't understand why you would questions me about something that is clearly benign or think that I would post on my FACEBOOK anything less than above board content"

He doesn't text me back.

I am utterly taken aback by this turn of events and spend the afternoon reading and re-reading my comments, his comments, the comments that spurred the reaction and concluding that, whole-heartedly, I am not wrong. I can make a joke, and my boyfriend, after spending three days of birthday fun, should not, for even an INSTANT, assume I am bitchy or callous enough to flirt with another man ON MY FACEBOOK for the world to see. I can see how it might seem ambiguous to the untrained eye, but...his eye should be trained.

Hey you little jealousy red flag. I know I'd see you rear up your ugly ass head.

I try and chalk up the behavior to the fact that DD has an infected tooth which he is getting PULLED with very little numbing...I think this has addled his brain. I PRAY this has addled his brain.

He get online later and tells me that the tooth is gone and he's got some major pain-killers on board (thank God, maybe he's mellowed, I think).

DD: my mood is much improved than say an hour ago..
Me: better living through chemicals..
DD: sorry to dent your good vibrations..
Me: eh. was bound to happen at some point. :-)

(See, I'm trying to lighten the mood. This was no reason to fight...)

DD: I assume you again dont understand why I would even ask?..

(Oh, dammit)
Me: i honestly don't understand how after all the time we've been spending together, after such a glorious weekend, and the kind of person you claim to believe I am, that you would think that there was even a second of your time worth spent worrying or asking about a facebook wall post that could ONLY be in reference to something benign...

(I got on to explain the reference. my nipping in the bud moment has passed, might as well make him feel guilty about something this stupid)

DD: I dont think your cheating on me or even considering it by anymeans, but joking around with some dude with sexual overtones does falls in the grey area and I have made it very clear how I feel about that.. I just thought I had earned enough respect from you to not have to deal with that shit. Apparently not..

(oh my jesus. oh my sweet jesus. Really?! Don't pick a fight with me, sir. You will lose and you will lose bad. And now you're just annoying me because I don't understand and this is dumb.)

Me: I'm sorry if it offended you. I am crystal clear on your issues with respect and gray area...but we may need to talk more about what falls in that gray area. I think I have a pretty good handle on reasonable v. unreasonable, but you appear to disagree. I certainly would not be so callous to put something on my wall that I KNEW you would see if I thought it was offensive...

(please, see reason. please don't be a stupid jealous idiot. I like you SO much)

DD: I would hope you werent having banter with other men that had sexual overtones whether or not I could see itmaybe I am a little sensitive to that type of stuff, but I dont do it. I guess thats the whole nothing is completely platonic theory, but its not respectful, and you have been very insensitive to anything I bring up which is irritating as wellIts like your trying to make me feel stupid about it, and then turning it around on me like I think your someone who would cheat which is not at all what I said...

(And....I'm out of rational ways to talk about this subject. I go to a gut place of "I don't understand this nonsense, it's stupid and I can't talk to you about it becuase you're WRONG" and this seems like a bad train to set in motion, so instead, I say:)

Me:Let's talk about this in person, please. I don't want to be insensitive but I need to think about this. I don't want you to be unhappy and I don't understand this right now...

I had to walk away. If I didn't walk away I wouldn't have been nice anymore. As it is, we discuss getting together that evening when DD drops this little gem on me in parting:

DD: I will text you later if I feel like coming over to talk.

Now, he could have meant "...if I feel like coming over to talk since I had a tooth ripped from my gums and don't feel good" but I take it as "keep you night open and if i deign to come discuss this with you, I'll let you know"

to which, my lovely basic instincts think "stay home, buddy. don't do me any favors"

I go to a spin class to work off my confusion and annoyance, but I only get more confused by how the day has spun out of control. When DD texts me sometime later and asks if I want him to come over, I skirt the question because, honestly, I DON'T want him to come over. I am all for a good battle, but not when I feel like the playing field is stupid. He clearly feels strongly about the subject, and is all worked up over it, and I think it's retarded which will only make him angrier.

When I suggest that we just chat later in the week to buy myself some time to try and empathize - something I am currently incapable of doing - I get the following text:

"I don't think you're hearing me at all today. And this is much bigger than I want it to be."

I hope I'm not hearing him at all, I think as I take my son to the bathroom for a bath and ignore his text until I can think of a nice way to respond. I hope I've heard him wrong and he's not being a jealous angry person over nothing.

I put my son to bed and come out to another text:

"I'm packing my stuff and coming over to talk this out. I'm not letting it fester."

Interesting that he was the angry one but when I didn't jump to fix the world, he jumped to come fix it himself. I go and lay down with my son. I hear him come in some time later (I didn't respond to his text) and when my son is finally asleep and I emerge, he hands me a gin and tonic and walks towards my bedroom.

Great, we need alcohol for this "talk" huh?

"Tell me how I hurt you today?" he opens with.

I brighten a little. This is a good opening line.

I'll spare you the extended record of the account and simplify it to our basic platforms:

MY POV: jealousy is a trust issue. either you trust me or you think i'm capable of being an insensitive assface.

HIS POV: i trust you, but i don't want to be played a fool. I should have the right, as you should, to ask a simple clarification question.

Now, the sticking point that I finally give up on trying to make him understand is that by ASKING a question he is, in fact, casting doubt on my ability to be trusted or to conduct myself in a respectful manner.

However, he admits he's overly sensitive and will work on that. He doesn't understand my joking with guys...(" I want all the flirting and sex stuff to come my way")...which I understand but refute with the fact that I treat men and women the same.

I agree to try and be more understanding of what might bother him, but say he needs to communicate it in a better way than "explain yourself" to which I promise to almost always reply "no i will not."

At the conclusion of our first BIG TALK, I sigh and get ready for bed:

"this won't be the last time we fight about this" I realize.

He looks worried. "Are you okay with that? I don't want to screw this up."

I shrug. "If we can talk about it without getting MAD..." (I give him an eyeball) "...then we'll work through it. We just have to communicate better."

He's a hothead, that much I know and he's admitted. Wears his heart on his sleeve. I am going to spend some time thinking about how to diffuse or stay away from the hotness until the moment has passed and he can be the sweet reasonable adult that I spend 98% of my time with.

"You've never been jealous?" he prods as I crawl into bed next to him. I give him a quick grin.

'Nope. I assume if someone is with me it's becuase they want to be with ME and not someone else or they would do something about it."

He groans, clearly unsatisfied by this answer.

I shrug again, deciding he'll either deal with his jealousy or he will find himself without a girlfriend at some point becuase he's let it consume him.

Heartless? Maybe. Practical? Always.

Sass Nugget # 3

DD text (upon returning from an overnight work trip): "just got back in town and was wondering if you might be interested in meeting up for a quick crazy rendezvous to defile a public place before I head to pick up the girls?"

Me: "you want to TP a place of business? I think we outgrew that after middle school."

DD: "you're ridiculous, little girl."

Birthday - Boyfriend for the WIN, but what about this present?

DD came over Wednesday night after a two night break from one another (I had plans) and then Thursday we and all the kids went to the pool. We ended up chatting back at my place after pooltime while the kids played about the places I was looking at to move into. My impression is the amount of money that he is willing to spend on a habitat is less than I am willing to spend. I figure that I still get to move where I want and if he wants to move in, he'll either figure it out or wait till next year to really talk about it. I'm okay with either.

Friday night, we had made plans to have all the kids spend the night elsewhere and he was to accompany me to a friend's party downtown. Realizing we were child-free...and that my 26th birthday was on Sunday...he asked if he could make reservations for dinner for the two of us. This was very gallant and I happily accepted.

We ended up going to a pricey and DELICIOUS Bralizian restuarant on the Plaza. Wine was good, food was to die for - the whole experience was AWESOME.

It was me who fucked it all up by realizing AFTER we had driven downtown, parked and were walking to the bar that my ID was still in my laptop bag where I had stowed it for easy access during my airport trips. Little Red fail.

We ended up going to my house - I changed my clothes into something more comfortable than the heels and halter dress I'd been sporting - and headed to a local bar to play pool - only to discover they no longer have a pool table. Bah!

Suddenly, we both seemed to realize that it was Friday, we'd worked all day, eaten a lot, had a couple drinks...and were old and tired.

"Sleep tonight, play in the morning?" I blearily suggested as I crawled into bed.

He nodded. OLD!!! Old old old!

Luckily, waking up at 7 AM for some fun times made me feel less old...that is until he had to stop mid-sexy times to blow his nose and then came in an pointed out how much "sleep" he had in one eye and I realized upon closer inspection that he had pink eye! Ack! Infectious disease!

I had thrown the sheets in the laundry, put my clothes back on and was tucking one side of fresh sheets and ready to clorox the doorknobs when he emerged from the bathroom after I gave him the eye drops that I used for my son's pink eye.

'Oh, so we're done here?" he said with slight suprise and less slight disappointment. "Well, at least you got yours."

I smiled broadly. "There's that. I'm sorry, but...I don't want pink eye."

He mutters that he understands but I can tell he wishes something else had happened.

Luckily, my son has swim lessons so we part for then and plan to reconvene later to take the kids to the movies. We do just that (Cars 2 is lame, btw) and then head home with kids and I run to the grocery store, spend too much money, and come home to make another family meal.

Of note: I make dinner and clean up dinner. It's my place. I should but...only his oldest daughter offers to help with the clean-up.

It doesn't bother me, but I'm noting it...and then curl up on the couch with him and the gin and tonic he's made me to watch "The Little Mermaid" before putting the kids to bed.

Somehow, we're both tired again, and after a little making out, pass out. Just in time for me to feel older and lamer than ever.

Luckily, we both wake up at 4 AM for some unknown reason and spend 2 blissful hours doing all kinds of things I'm not able to mention here for fear of future discovery.

We sleep for another hour or so before I rise and get waffles going for my son and his girls and then hop in the shower - as we're to meet my father for an outing at the zoo.

The zoo is FUN. The kids have a great time, and even though we're all sweating like crazy and hot as hell 5.5 hours later, it's a good time had by all. I'm impressed when DD pays for everyone's admissions and keeps making an "it's your birthday" fuss over me paying for anything. It's sweet.

We head home and he's asleep in the car as his girls are already clamoring for a trip to the pool. I have birthday dinner plans with my mom sister and father, so I get my soon a bath, ready things for the pool thinking I can send DD and the girls to my pool since I'm thinking DD is too tired to gear up for another family thing of mine. As I strip out of my sweat drenched clothes and head to the shower, he's half passed out on my bed.

Minutes later, furiously trying to hop in and out of the shower, he joins me.

"You appear to have found some energy," I say, half-surprised.

"You took off your shirt," is his only explanation.

I lose some time in the shower, but manage to get out of the house on time anyway. I find myself leaving my housekey and the pass to the pool so they can swim - after having stacked 3 towels for them, packed sunscreen and goggles.

Here's the thing: I'm a mom. I like doing the mom thing. I just want to make sure I don't set a precedence of over-mom-ing a grown man. He's got kids. He's 8 years older than me. I get that I move at a crazy person pace. I don't slow down. I almost always have energy. Not everyone moves like that.

That night, as I walk into my house excepting to see the mess from the kids and where they slept the previous night...I find my house clean. And think..ahhhh...this is going to be okay.

I text back and forth about how great the weekend was, thank him, etc. and he texts back a long time before ending with "you've won us all over"

Sunday Funday - family bonding, shower sex, father's day, and a surprise discussion about living together

You can pack a lot of activity into one 12 hour period.

Sunday's adventure in dating began at 12 noon when DD showed up at my house with his girls, ready to head to the pool for an afternoon of swimming. We packed a strolled and walked down the street, my boyfriend, me and our 3 kids.

The thing I'm liking about having 3 kids in the mix is that the older 2 watch after the younger 1. The bonus is for everyone. The girls feel like they're mothering a toddler. I get to mother a toddler, but also enjoy myself as an adult and play in the pool with the girls and DD. And, I got to lay out with having to keep an eye cracked upon for the 2-year-old who would undoubtedly fall in the pool.

Glorious.

After the pool, we headed back to my house to get ready for father's day dinner. Once the kisd were changed and playing in my son's room, I announced I was going to hop in the shower to get ready.

"Maybe I'll join you," DD said with a wink.

I gave him a look. "There are 3 children in the other room," I reminded him.

Somehow, as I finished conditioning my hair and started to soap up in the shower, DD appears in a suddenly open shower door. I repeat my LOOK.

"They're all playing. And I need to shower too," he says with not even a half-assed attempt at innocence as he gets in and makes a pass at me.

I stubbornly act like I'm going to get clean and get the heck out, when he suddenly steals the loofah from me and turns me away from him.

A few moments later he releases me with a cocky grin on his face.

"That's just a teaser for later," he promises as I try to get my brain to come back online.

I give him a dirty look and get out of the shower to get ready, precious moments lost to shower fun.

When he gets out five minutes later, I find that I'm grinning like an idiot.

"You know what's so great?" I ask. "You can have kids and still have a sex life!"

This makes him laugh, because it's cleary not the world's biggest revelation. I hadn't given it much thought, but I had clearly put on my "mom hat" and taken it off for my "girl hat" as time and dating dictated. I had never thought about how you really integrated the 2. I mean, married couples do it, I'm sure (or maybe they don't and that's where all the sex complaints come from) but I'm nearly giddy to discover we can go play at the pool with our children and then come home and have some discreet sexy playtime and then get ready to go out to dinner with the family. This is blissful madness, I tell you!

We then made a big old blended family step and went to dinner for father's day with all the kids and my father and my sister and her boyfriend.

I had another "holy shit is this for real?" moment at that dinner, especially as I chatted with my dad while DD's youngest played with my son and his oldest made cute little crayon nametags for him. It was DD who rounded up my son as I was paying the bill. Is this what family life is like? Not doing everything on your own?

What else is blended family life like? Having to disperse the children to the corners of the world. We were headed to a Chelsea Handler concert and had to stop at my house to deposit my son with my mother, pick up my friend, then head to deposit HIS kids with THEIR mother before running to Houlihan's to meet the rest of the crew that I was driving to the concert.

I'm riding a high of family and shower sex when, at Houlihan's, DD pulls a coup de grace and pays for everyone's drinks, including my 3 girlfriends. This is a SMART play. I am impressed and proud, the girls are having some instant "you can buy our love" and I just want to jump on him and kiss him. This day is kicking some ass.

We go see a comedy concert with Chelsea Handler that makes me laugh so hard I cry a few times before heading home. I drop all of our friends off at their cars, then we go to retrieve my sleeping son.

We arrive home to a house that somehow the AC has been turned off in and it is flipping HOT. I put my son down, crank the AC and go to my room to see a sweltering DD laying in his underwear on the bed. Visions of shower sex dance in my head, and I unzip my dress and lay down beside him in only my underwear with a "it's so HOT" lament to cover my actions.

"I want to talk to you about something," he says.

I deflate instantly. Son of a bitch.

"Yeah?" I say, wishing I could grab a t-shirt. Why does he catch me at times like this to have "talks?" I can't take a conversation seriously without a bra on.

"I know it's really insanely early to be talking about this, but with your lease up in two months..."

Oh, holy f-er. I knew this was coming. Ever since I got home, and even a couple time before that, he's made elusive vague commments about thinking "crazy things" about me sometimes based on how awesome everything is going between us. These followed with pointed questions about my dream house and how I want to get married have left little to my imagination that, for whatever reason, homeboy thinks he's his a jackpot and he wants to lock this redhead DOWN.

I have been very good at not asking any questions or changing the subject when he's made these comments. However, just the previous day when talking about how I had put in my notice at my townhome and what I was looking for in a new place, we had the following exchange:

"Have you looked at rental houses?" he wanted to know.

"Yes. Prices are good but they have YARDS. I don't want to shovel snow or mow a lawn. I don't have time," I say, having thought about it extensively. There are a lot of things I'm doing on my own wearing my WonderMom cape and being a working single moter...I have no desire to add lawncare to that.

"I would come mow your lawn. I have a mower," DD says.

I give him the most arched eyebrow I can afford him.

"Yeah, but are you going to be around in a year to do that?" I ask snarkily.

He frowns. "Are you assuming that I'm not?"

I roll my eyes. "No, but I'm not hedging my bets and ending up having to a mow a frickin lawn next June."

End of conversation.

So, I am not entirely surprised, but definitely overcome with a sense of unease as DD on Sunday evening lays out the facts...my lease is up in August, he's staying where he's at till he graduates in December, if he gets a 1 year lease in December that means it will be the NEXT summer before we could potentially live together and...

"...and, at some point...I'm going to want to live with you," he finishes.

Urgh.

"How do you feel about that?"

Double urgh.

"There is...a lot...to consider before something like that," I pad. I've been thinking about it. It's not that I haven't. One of the factors in biting the bullet to leave my place and look for te 3-bedroom I've been talking about for 6 months is so that when he has his girls they have a place to stay that isn't my couch. I've been doing recon on finances and living situations with my friends...why, you might ask? So that when this conversation came up MANY MONTHS downt the line, I was prepared for it.

I'm not prepared enough.

We talk for a while about what it would mean - having to discuss finances, etc. and, from a time stand point, I finally say:

"Bottom line is that...we're in the honeymoon phase. We both think that the other one shits sunshine and that's not going to last. We are flawed and you will be thoroughly annoyed by me at some point..." (perhaps it will be my inability to committ without kicking and screaming about it) "...and it takes...time...for those things to manifest."

He agrees but says "I don't know, I just know" with regard to us being something that is going to end with rainbows and bells and heavens parting.

I am quiet. HOW does he know? Am I an asshole for NOT knowing? Shouldn't experience have taught him to take things slow? OR has experience taught him to recognize a good thing when he sees it? Am I really that good of a thing? This seems like a huge amount of build-up for one little redhead to live up to. Also, is my independance dented by the idea of having someone at home? The idea is both appealing and repulsive.

"I have a lot to think about," I finally announce.

He fumbles a response about my search for a new place and I finally close the subject by saying that I would love him to have some input in my new place and he could come with me or look at places with me, but that for the moment, what I want will be what I get. I'll get a place I can afford with or without him, etc. etc. etc.

He agrees with this although I can tell he wants more. I'm flattered and freaked by this. Stop trying to lock me down, man! I said I love you, what more do you WANT from me?

Answer: apparently, everything.

And thus, at midnight, a very eventful 12 hours on one single Sunday has passed.

There! I said it! Now what?

Love strikes you at funny times.

For me, a week after DD first said it to me - giving me due palpitations and sweaty palms - I found myself sharing a low-key Saturday evening with him. We watched "The Voice", did our laundry, I made dinner, and we went for a walk with my son. After hanging out while my son took a bath, he sat on the bed with us while we read a bed time story.

It felt like a life. No pretense. No fluffy stuff and nothing terribly exciting. It was when I walked into my bedroom after putting my son down for the night to find him passed out in my bed, curled up in his underwear on what has become his side of the bed that this crazy thought came past me that I wanted him to be on that side of my bed all the time. As I changed out of the skimpy sundress that I had envision him untying the straps to earlier in the day in favor of a tank top and boxer shorts and climbing into bed with him, I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. He stirred, blinked his eyes open and then closed.

"I passed out," he astutely announced.

I smiled. "I think I love you."

Without opening his eyes, he just smiled.

"I knew you'd say it."

I rolled my eyes, grinning like the fool in sudden love that I was, and grabbed my Nook. I wasn't tired, but my sexy times were thwarted by the l-word and my boyfriend's exhaustion. I read into the night while he slept beside me. It felt good. Easy. Right. All those things that you're supposed to feel. For once, I didn't freak out. I just enjoyed it.

There's always tomorrow to start freaking out.

Relationship Frisbees

While in Albany, a dear friend was having a mushy moment regarding her gentlemen friend who lives an hour away and had just left her home. I think I was 8 or 9 days away from my OWN gentleman friend and feeling like this teariness over a man was...well, interesting, at least. (or I'm cold-hearted)

"I need to go get my "why men marry bitches..." she says via gchat. "I need to re-read it"

WHAT?! I think.

"Why?" I ask. "What's it about?"

"Hold on, let me go get it," she says. Then, a moment later, having clearly cracked the book open and read a bit. "On second thought, you don't need this book. Nice girls need this book."

Shot to the heart.

I make a joking big deal out of this statement and then google the book to make sure that my friend isn't giving me a big hint that my nice girls days have been traded in for Bitch with a capital "B" days (which would be news to me. I'm tough, but I've always considered myself a nice girl.)

I learn quicly that "bitch" in the title is a gimmick to sell books. The "bitch" is a strong confident woman who does what she wants.

That's kind of bitch I can get on board with. I realize my friend's statement was actually a compliment. (I post the quote on facebook anyway as a loving barb)

Prior to boarding my plane home, and intrigued by the quotes I've read online, I buy the book for my e-reader and read it in its entirety on the way home from upstate NY. There are some retread thoughts but some of the perspective on men, committment phobia, relationships and settling down are fascinating.

My friend is reading the book in order to be less accomodating. She is one of those girls who falls and falls HARD. every. time. No matter how big of a D-bag the last guy was. She's wonderfully, hopelessly romantic. And thus, guys sometimes walk all over her. In her current case, she has been seeing a guy for 4+ months with no sign of buttoning down an exclusive relationship (dammit).

I read that that best way to get a guy to committ is to NOT talk about relationships and committment. The LESS you talk about these things, the more likely you are to secure a man because they think you are confident, not needy, and just looking for fun.

Well, hell, I think. I clearly played my cards wrong here. Son of a bitch. If you take Example A: my friend Chardonney (I'm calling her this becuase of her great men and wine analogy") and Example B: me the book's theories are on display. Committment hesitant me is locked down in a relationship while Chardonney is in limbo with a HOT (I saw a picture...he is HOT) guy. We both met the gents off match, so what's the difference in circumstance.

Alright, there are a couple, but I'm fascinated nonethless.

Another "relationship principle" the book discusses ad nauseum is the idea that men throw "relationship frisbees" to see how far they can push you, where you boundaries are, and how accommodating you ARE going to be. The crux is that when you stand your ground, the man will typically go "oh shit, she's strong. I better work to keep her" and HE is then likely to overcompensate for the frisbee he threw.

I inadvertantly test this with DD when we begin to discuss what we think will be our hot buttons...i.e. possible/probably issues we will disagree on.

I'm a little surprised when he brings up parenting styles. Then I think about it and, luckily, facing away from him (I'm always the little spoon) on the Tuesday after my return home, guess... "You think I'm too easy on him?"

I hadn't thought about it much but I guess context clues have shown DD to have less patience for bad behavior, etc. than I do. I have a 2.5 year old. I could be mad all day long if I wanted to, but I don't want to.

That very night, said 2-year-old had had a major cow with regard to a sudden aversion to bubble baths - one of which I had lovingly fixed for him thinking he would have fun. When a giant tantrum appeared, I let the water out to dissipate the bubbles and refilled the bath. Why? Because it wasn't a big deal for me to do so and I pick my battles.

"You would have let him cry it out?" I say when we discuss the incident as an example.

"Yes. I think you just make it harder on you that it has to be. He knows he can get to you."

And, unexpectedly, I bristle up pretty intensely. Parents are notoriously territorial and I think I feel like he's about to step somewhere that I've claimed as my own.

I keep calm though and explain why I parent the way I parent - which is something I've done with great thought and conscientiousness of the way I want to raise my son.

He says he was probably harsher on his kids than he should have been but that they did okay. He spanked his girls, he reveals.

"This is not a spanking household," I say firmly.

"And I respect that," he counters, but then goes on to defend his way of parenting.

I realize we're stepping into a quagmire.

"Your girls are wonderful," I finally say. "What worked for you, worked for you. I'm just choosing to do it differently."

After a bit more discussion, he finally asks, "how do you see yourself fitting into the girls' lives?"

Ah! The real thing he wants to know...which is NOT, I might add, how I fit in HIS kids lives. He wants to know how he fits in MY kid's life. This is a ballsy conversation to have this early, so I tread carefully but definitively.

"Your kids have parents. You, your ex-wife, their step-dad. They don't want for parents, so I would see myself as their friend," I say. HINT HINT. I continue, "it's different for me and Shorty because this has been the Little Red solo show for the whole gig. I want to incorporate another adult into that...at some point. But it's something that will take time...and we'll just have to feel it out. That is to say, you know how I feel about things. I'm not opposed to you stepping in to help when an opportunity strikes, and I'm not afraid to elbow you in the ribs and tell you get off my toes if you do something I don't like."

Read: get the f up off my parenting business, buddy.

He makes a smooth-over joke about knowing I will put him in his place if I need to and we change the subject but I'm not thrilled with the whole conversation. I feel slightly threatened and a little territorial.

The following night, I'm surprised and delighted as DD nearly trips all over himself to make sure I know that HE knows that I'm a good mom.

"I thought about it...and just because my kids are older and I'm older doesn't mean I know everything," he says when we're in bed at the close of the evening (notice how often we're seeing eachother? and in bed? Yikes!)

Damn skippy, I think toughly at the same time that a more removed internal part of me swoons to know that he's not a bull-headed prick about things like this.

"Maybe I'll learn something from you," he says, clearly attempting to backtrack and make the previos night's discussion all better.

"Maybe we'll learn something from eachother," I counter graciously, truly heartened at the turn of conversation.

Relationship frisbee: thrown and caught. Take that.

On the topic of jealousy...

I'm not entirely sure why I'm falling in love kicking and screaming as if someone is trying to yank me into hell rather than the throes of a functional, passionate, pleasing relationship.

I treat every big step and every sweet thing this very nice man does for me with a big old cocked eyebrow as if waiting for God to go "ha! just kidding kid!" and him to have a deep dark secret that I won't be able to handle.

We had what I will consider our first "big talk" upon my return from out of town - covering, first and foremost, his green-eyed monster. He quickly apologizes and dismisses his reaction to my staying in a friend's living room. I nod, but...you're not off the hook, buddy.

"Are you a crazy jealous person?" I want to know as we lay in bed, again, having some really strange pillow talk after some welcome-home-sex. (Sidebar: he brought me flowers! it's amazing I didn't blurt out "I love you" then and there)

"No. But I do have some qualities I'm not proud of...including some jealousy and possessiveness."

Eee, gads. I'm glad it's dark in my room because I hope he can't see the big ole frown and look of worry on my face.

"Do you trust me?" I want to know.

"Yes, but..." (nothing good ever being with a "yes, but") "...this is just such a good thing we have going that I don't want to mess it up."

Well, stop being a caveman and we'll be in good shape.

I say, "so you trust me but you don't trust me."

"No, I trust you."

He doesn't sound super convinced.

"Look, the reality is that I could cheat on you tomorrow. I know the reality is that you could go fuck another girl if you wanted to. I have zippo control over that. I'm clearly operating under the assumption that you're NOT going to do that but...I also know it could happen. I'll deal with the fallout of something like that IF it happens, not try to protect myself from the fallout in advance when you haven't done anything to indicate you might be inclined towards that type of behavior."

Capice?

He's quiet. Maybe not capice...

"You knew I had guy friends," I say with as low of a defensiveness level as I can muster.

"I know. That doesn't bother me...in theory."

My frown is deepening.

"So your guy goes to being bothered...that...is okay," I say with great diplomacy. "So long as I can tell your gut it's being ridiculous."

He smiles at this. "You're so good for me."

I smile back. Problem meet solution.

"I think the bigger question is here how we communicate in a conflict. My gut goes to being an indignant snot when I think I'm right. I know I did that last week with you and I don't want YOU think I'M an insensitive asshole. Our guts have rights to go wherever they want, but we, as thinking people, have to reign them in and tell them who's boss..."

See what I'm doing here? I'm making a very nice parallel that I hope he is absorbing.

"I have no doubt you'll tell me who's boss," he cracks.

Good, so long as we're clear on that...

"So does the idea of me being in [ex-love-of-my-life]'s wedding give you hives?"

Ah, have I mentioned this? I am to be a groomsman for the man who took my virginity. In New Orleans. My other best friend who is a dude is the best man and will likely plan the world's most ridiculous bachelor party. In New Orleans.

"I wouldn't say it gives me hives..." DD says carefully.

"But it doesn't make you leap for joy," I surmise. "Good thing you have a year to get used to the idea."

"Good thing," he says quietly, clearly not convinced it will ever be something that jives in his brain. I am not going to concern myself with this because, well, it's happening. He's going to have to deal with it.

However, this bring up another interesting question...

"So, does my friendship with [ex love of my...jesus, I need a shorter nickname for this one. I shall call him...THAT ONE...henceforth] blow your mind?"

He is silent again for a moment before saying, very carefully, "I don't understand it. I mean...from what I gather...he was your first everything. I'm not sure how his fiance thinks that's appropriate"

Translation: I don't think it's appropriate.

"She was wary of me before she met me. Understandably. THAT ONE and I dated for 4 years, and are now best friends, practically family. He's my son's godfather. Our lives are sort of...stuck together. That's a big pill to swallow. I get that. But...I think people have good intuition. Girls know when they can't trust other girls. She met me...and it made her comfortable with our relationship. That...meant something," I say, by way of explanation.

"Uh huh" is the response I get. I'm glad I didn't become a lawyer, because I apparently suck at making a case.

"I'm not...it's not that I feel like I'm competing with him, but...you loved him. A lot. He's still a huge part of your life. His pictures are all over you house... "(sidebar, there are four pictures...three with my son...2 of which are in my son's room) "...and...I can't help but wonder if you'll ever have the same kind of feelings for me that you did for him. I want to be the one that you call first."

Aw. He's threatened. And vulenerable. And that wins my heart...every time.

I look at him seriously, put my hand on his cheek. "Right now, besides my son, you're the only man in my life that really matters."

And, to my surprise, I think I mean this statement.

He guffaws at this, but I reiterate it...emphatically.

"but...I'm always going to have guy friends. And they're not going anywhere," I add, for good measure.

He cocks an eyebrow.

"I thought I'm the only what that matters," he says.

"REALLY matters," I remind him. "The other still matter. You just matter more. Now, hush up and let's go to sleep."

And we do.

KABOOM! (the L-Bomb)

okay, so Albany debauchery aside, I'm having a nice IM chat with DD on the night before I am to return from Albany when he asks how the 10-day separations has made me feel, what I've reflected on, etc. about our relationship. I hate questions like this. He's fishing and I don't want to spill my guts only to have him say "yeeeeeah, I don't see this going anywhere."

I say something vague but true about how much I missed him, am excited to see him, and how 10 days of separation and removal from the, well, sexy times has brought into sharp relief how much I am growing to care about him.

I conclude with my knee jerk jokey nice thing "I like you...aloooot. :-D"

To some serious eye-widening from me, he replies "I think you more than like me."

My surprise quickly shifts to amusement. "Oh, reeeaally?"

He's quick with his response: "I know you like to play it close to the cuff, but, I just hope that even if you can't say it, that you're letting yourself feel it."

Phew. You think I got it bad, do you? Or..or...

"DID YOU GET MY VOICEMAIL?" I demand.

"lol, yes, finally."

Well, son of a bitch. Goes to show you're never fully off the hook.

I muddle around the subject until he finally says "it's okay. I don't want to say it online either."

I don't want to say it at all! I mean, I do...someday...maybe...but, how do I know if what I'm feeling is that!? It's been such a short time! I'm conflicted and start to freak out.

"Are you really freaking out?" my newly married best friend asks me since I'm sitting on her floor while her husband naps and she packs for her honeymoon.

"No...yes..no...maybe," I say, running my hands through my hair and feeling freaked, excited, mortified at the previous night's behavior, elated, and ultimately like I might pass out.

"Don't let him pressure you," is all she wisely advises.

I change the subject in my online conversation after some banter regarding the big emotion talk in our future and likewise a close-out conversation on the green eyed monster that came jetting out of him last week.

Oh lord preserve me from these relationshippy conversations that I have in store for me when I get home!

What happens in Albany, stays in Albany.

That is all.

The importance of this post is that I have been spurred into realizing my affection for and commitment to my relationship.

A Red Flag of a Green Monster

Oooh, I knew there would be one of these. I KNEW it.

I received a text late this evening that read:

"So I don't know why you can't talk to me or find time to call me back, so that's a little suspect...but I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow or something."

Now, I had just left that long ass voicemail of doom, so I'm very confused by this text.

"I called you!" I reply, wondering if maybe his phone hated me and didn't show a missed call and maybe he doesn't know he has the aforementioned voicemail of doom.

"not according to my phone"

wtf. I start to text him back because it is very late and there are about 4 other people trying to sleep in a house with very thin walls where I'm staying in Albany, but he calls. Sensing a problem, I pick up the phone and head to the kitchen and backdoor where I feel I can talk the most freely without bothering other people into consciousness.

"what's going on?" I ask.

He proceeds to tell me that his youngest daughter has a staph infection of some sort and that has him freaked out. I sympathize and do what I think is a pretty good bolstering act and then tell him what I've been up to in excuse for why I haven't called him on the phone (and stuck to texts...busy, thin walls, etc. all come up). As I'm recounting my quickie trip to NYC, he interrupts:

"where'd you crash?"

"At Adam's" I reply nonchalantly.

"Okay, well, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later," he says, CLEARLY upset.

Now, hold the phone...

"Wait, are you MAD at me?" I want to know.

"No, I just thought we had a conversation about this," he says, miffed.

Uh, I remember a conversation about my guy friends in which I recounted that I had a lot of really close guy friends that I'd crashed in bed with in a pre-baby era. The extent of the conversation was my saying that it had been a college thing to share beds with other man platonically because, well, it was generally unnecessary as an adult and most of my guy friends are married or in relationships.

I bring this exact point up, indignantly. I see you, you little jealousy red flag fucker, from a MILE away.

"I just thought you said it was a college thing," he says.

"I slept on his FUTON. he has roommates. and a girlfriend."

"but you had a crush on him."

I can't recall actually admitting this, but since it's true, I say "yah, for like two days, and then I realized he's a giant geek and more like a brother than either a crush OR a supervisor. would you have rather i paid for a hotel?"

this is a trick question. if he answers yes then we'll really have problems.

"no, but, wasn't there a girl?"

"yes, who lived on staten island," I say.

This means nothing to him so I have to explain the distance and that my friend lives with her parents and that what I did was path of least resistance.

"Does it really bother you?" I want to know, feeling like this is the silliest of all silly things to be bothered about.

We have a quick back and forth where he reminds me he's been cheated on and, he doesn't know Adam, and look at it from his point of you, and blah blah blah until I finally say: "hey, do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then don't let it bother you."

See. Simple. Listen to me. I'm smart.

"That's easy to say."

Granted.

"Okay, well, I'm sorry it bothers you."

"Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything. And if you did, you're an honest person and I feel like you could tell me."

O. M. G. Is this conversation happening? You are red flagging UP...you're armoring yourself in crazy jealous guy red flags. STOP, man!

He must sense this as well because he starts making excuses about his bad day and his mood and that he thought I ignored him (I do another happy dance that my voicemail o' doom didn't go through!) and not to worry about it.

I decide to guilt him, because, he deserves it. This is something he needs to get out of his system.

"I'm just sad that this is the first time I've talked to you in 7 days and I feel like you're mad at me," I say.

Don't do this again, DD. This is a suck move. This is a suck move because I have lots o' guy friends and I will fight you about this. This is not about anything more than trust. And you either trust me or you don't (yes, from the girl talking about doing some menial cheating at a wedding...)

And, to that parenthetical end, this behavior ALL THE MORE makes me want to exert my "I will do what I want" independence. You're PUSHING me towards it. Don't jealous people realize that they PUSH people to do stupid things by being stifling?? Idiotic. Dear former love of my life/current best friend, thank you for being totally not the jealous type. I got annoyed for your lack of passion but, I would prefer that to the jealousy.

We talk about it a bit more and I talk him down off the ledge...though he is SERIOUSLY begrudging about the whole thing. The furthest I go is to apologize that he's bothered, I refused to apologize for crashing on my former supervisor's futon in his living room for one night. I won't do it. I have a man friend in Virginia who I have visited before. This conversation is making me want to visit him. To prove a point.

Grrr. DD. Dumb. DD is not longer Divorced Dad but Dumb Dude.

I stop being uppity and breakdown his trifecta, telling him that tomorrow will have to be better than crappy old today. His daughter will feel better surely, I will make a very valiant (though I disclaimer no promises) attempt to call him and tell him how much I like him and can't wait to see him (truths), and that while I can't make his job suck less...2 outta 3 ain't bad. This gets a little begrudging chuckle.

"Cheer up, Charlie," I sing...moving into the song and dance portion of the evening.

DD relents finally, apologizes for overreacting, and we get off the phone. I beeline in here to write about it while it's fresh, and am already planning the conversation we'll have when I'm home to reiterate the important of trust and the fact that the behavior exhibited tonight was of the majorly sucky variety.

Let it be known that on this date - June 10...exactly 8 weeks from our date...that a red flag has been spotted.

The Voicemail of DOOM

Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I've done it this time. I've stuck my foot in my mouth before, but tonight definitely takes the cake. I can't decide if I'm glad that it was over voicemail rather than an actual conversation or not, but either way I wish I could erase the last hour of my life so that the voicemail I left would not exist.

I called DD tonight upon his request (he wanted to hear my voice - I think I wanted to hear his too)but unfortunately got voicemail. I left a long rambly voicemail - the kind of which I am famous for, especially with my long distance friends. I was wrapping up the message and had uttered the words "i miss you" (truth). The problem was that I say this phrase ALL the time to my friends...usually in the iteration of "miss you, love you, talk to you soon!"

Somehow, this is what tumbled off my lips tonight. I knew what I'd said the instant I said it and had a major "oh fuck me!" moment. But I'm on voicemail so I have to keep talking: "oh, ha! i can't believe I just said that. I say that all the time to [my long distance friend] and i didn't mean to blurt that out on voicemail...clearly...that's not a voicemail thing..."

Oh, God, make me shut up! Give me the strength to stop rambling! Give me the strength to find words that stop sounding like I'm either madly in love with him and accidentally admitted it or that I couldn't think of anything I'd like to say LESS than "I love you" and it was a complete and utter accident. I think I probably sound like a terrible mixture of BOTH and depending on which way he's leaning, he'll read it that way.

I finally give up trying to explain myself and end with an awkward "okay, well, I'm super busy the next two days with the wedding but I'll try and text you or call you Sunday....uh...bye."

Fail. Giant, epic early relationship FAIL. Also, I've felt like these very words MIGHT have been on his lips a couple of times this last week. I've even said to friends, "man, I hope he doesn't say it. He knows I'm a slower paced gal. He's smart. He'll wait and let ME say it."

But now I've said it!

Damn.

Double damn.

Fuck me.

I am woman, hear me be not mushy.

I departed for a week's worth of wedding madness in upstate New York on Friday the 3rd. Now, one would think that being embroiled in the wedding festivities and planning would make one MORE romantic. Interestingly, it has made me appreciative of those that go to the great lengths my dear friend has gone because never was there a more perfectly crafted, personal and loving union about to take place as this one. What it has NOT made me is anymore desirous of a big white wedding. I'm pretty much sticking to my elopement guns if and when I ever decide contracting myself to another human being sounds like a good plan (which is still doesn't).

I had an inkling that DD was going to be mushy about the separation on the morning of my departure as he drove me to a VERY early flight and held me hand a lot and reiterated at a good clip how much he was going to miss me. I realized I would miss him, but, I was also really looking forward to my trip, my friend, meeting her friends, her fiance's friends, taking a quickie trip to NYC to see MORE friends, etc. etc. and that I would be glad to see him upon my return but not likely to have a moment of misery about DD's absence unless and until my hormones got the better of me (and that's still not the same kind of "missing" i think that DD was talking about).

To my surprise, I really did/do miss DD (still not enough to feel misery over it because I'm having a kickass time) but enough to be able to genuinely return some "miss you" texts with "miss you toos" and not feel like a big liar.

There was a facebook post this week on DD's wall that alluded to the fact that you know you miss someone alot when you're dreaming about them. I thought it was about me, but then the niece who he is helping to move this weekend posted in response with a "thanks!" he quickly corrected her that while he liked her a lot he was in fact referencing "a little ginger woman" who was in upstate ny. Cute.

I did get pretty hormonal at one point (read: horny) and missed him a LOT, which I proceeded to share, which made him a little crazed, which made me happy. I thought it was a good exchange that made me VERY excited to see him when I get home.

It's a strange thing, missing a person. With technology being what it is, you don't really MISS people in the same vein that you once did. Or maybe time seems to pass pretty quickly and, in comparison to the long distance relationship I had with my first boyfriend (who I saw every 3 months) 10 days seems like a blink of an eye. Again, life is going to be understandably harder for him because he's at home and his routine is disrupted whereas I am in a completely different state with different people in a different bed and it's easier to get by. It's almost always harder to be the one left behind (as I have well learned).

I'm just a little surprised at the level at which he appears to miss me. I alternate being flattered, being skeptical, and being anxious that his depth of feeling is greater than mine. That said, I have a strangely comfortable GREAT depth of feeling. Maybe that's why I'm not missing him terribly. I know I will go home to him. I know he's likely to come spend the night the first night I'm home. I know things are so easy and good with us that we will be dating each other in a month, probably two months, probably (all signs at THIS juncture point this direction) in a year. I can see us moving in together. I can even, loathe though I would be to say it out loud, I can see us married. It's just TOO easy. All my freaking out about these things and I feel somewhat like they are INEVITABLE with him.

So, hilariously, last night as I was texting my sentiments regarding how great things were going but that I was definitely still an eloping kind of girl he sent the following text:

"you are soooo smart and so practical. you're not like any girl i've ever met. I want to keep you ALWAYS."

my reaction to this was in this order: 'awww, i'm going to marry him' followed by 'oh shit, i'm going to marry him' followed by 'i better sow some wild oats up here in albany because i'm never having sex with another person because i'm going to marry him.'

some people say i'm damaged, but i think that there are other people in the world who will have had this thought process.

or that's what i'm telling myself so i can sleep at night.

The Very Short Tale of a Cucumber

In the interest of not turning this blog into porn, this entry will remain short and sweet but still provide effective coverage of the goings ons in my dating life.

While Thursday night prior to me departure brought the very first night that I could NOT stay asleep to do anything more than kiss and half-heartedly backrub DD, I feel this sexy time fail is allowed in light of the previous night's shenanigans which shall be summed up as follows:

not satisfied with the very sexcapade, DD came over and brought out the cuffs and the blindfold in quick measure. After a VERY long prep time, there were a couple of firsts not the least of which was some candle wax (hot!). Then, after playtime, consider my shock when I saw that paraphenalia included a gigantic cucumber with a magnum condom on it.

'nuff said.

Family Bonanza - Best Laid Plans

Oh, Lord, people. Nothing like belly-flopping into family time to make a person glad to be going out of town for 10 days (which I am this Friday).

Saturday brought dinner at DD's house prior to a planned field trip to the Piccadilly Circus downtown with all three kids. DD made a nice dinner and thoughtfully considered my crazy-ass diet when planning my meal, and also had a kid-friendly option for the 2, 9 and 10 year olds dining with us.

From there we departed for the Circus - which turned out to be a lame circus if there ever was one. Even my toddler was unimpressed. Oh, well. Sure seemed like a good idea.

So, DD and I had TALKED about, in PASSING, figuring out a way to spend the night Saturday night but as I was en route to drive them home, he mentions that he'd packed for the girls and had planned to have a slumber party at my house and then we would all go to church in the morning together.

Alrighty, then. I had no toilet paper at my house, which was embarassing, but then, I hadn't CONFIRMED with him (nor he with me) that we were actually executing Operation Slumber Party that night. So, I sneak out after getting my toddler into PJ's and "Wall-E" on the tube to buy toilet paper. I find myself also buying razors (after he used a bad one of mine the night before to shave) and non-girly body wash (he's been smelling like "tahitian renewal" for days which is tripping me out). The implications of these purchases are not lost on me. I try not to think too hard about it, check out and go home to watch Wall-E.

Or...attempt to watch Wall-E as the girls have discovered all of my son's toys, the noisiest of which they get out and become a performing band. It's endearing to say the least and I enjoy being curled up on the couch with DD while our kids perform. I smack away the internal "holy crap, girl, what are you doing!?" alarm bells and enjoy it for a bit. Then, I see how late it is and put the kabosh on the noisy stuff and make everyone get ready for bed.

DD has forgotten to pack his girls any pajamas (dad fail) so they each wear a t-shirt of mine. It's a little trippy to see my name on the back of his youngest daughter as she sports a softball jersey I wore when I was about her age (don't ask why I still own it).

One girl sleeps on the living room couch, and the other heads to sleep in with my son. One big cozy family.

By midnight, all people under the age of 18 are asleep and I retire to my bed where DD is lounging and we have a VERY quiet make-out session. Then we pass out.

Morning comes VERY early, but I get up, get ready, and start in on breakfast. Normally, my son eats some waffles or something similar and fruit and I make myself a crazy-diet omelet. Not today. Today, I get a taste of cooking for a family. I make scrambled eggs for four, sausage, cut upa canteloupe, get dishes down, do waffles for the girl that doesn't like eggs, and make coffee for DD. Holy hell! Domesticity - you're going to take some adjustment if you come into my life on a semi-regular basis. I barely down a cup of coffee before I'm shoo-ing everyone out ther door for church.

Let's talk about church: DD is not a church go-er but his girls are. I go to a pretty darn liberal church..a self-proclaimed "church for the unchurched" which is about as accessible and awesome as they come. I think the girls will love it. The whole reason we are all going is becuase the girls' mom wants them to go to church once a week. On DD's weekends, they don't usually go, so they go on Wednesday nights (and cut a chunk out of THAT night with DD). DD is up for trying it and thinks it will be good times

Who knew we would have a guest pastor that was all serious fire and brimstone, evangelism and all things that non-churchy people hate?

Not me. It was off-putting to ME, a church-goer, so I knew when we walked out and I offered a weak "well that was intense" that I was going to get some vein of what I got which was "to be honest, I did not enjoy any of that."

Yikes. Well. Hell. I was a little awkward about this. I tried to explain that's not what the church was about, relented and finally said "maybe you're just not a church guy."

"I guess not."

Eek. Well, at least the girls had fun. It was weird getting them all checked in and picking them all up though. They keep track of kids with stickers and, my son is registered, but we registered his girls but somehow my name was still on all of them and it was a bit overwhelming to have three children labeled with my name.

I dropped them back off at DD's house, mumbled a quick "sorry for dragging you out of bed for that" and then made plans to see them that night for the camping trip I'd drunkenly agreed to on Friday night.

I'm tired and regretting this idea of going to sleep in a tent with three kids and my new boyfriend.

I rally though and get excited. My toddler appears to get excited too and has one of those great days that 2-year-olds of capable of where he is so high on life that you can't deny him but also grates on your last nerve.

The 45-minute ride to Lawrence with three kids in the back is not a short one becuase of my LOUD happy child. I think it's bugging DD, but I can't stop it so I just have a moment of "too bad" because I had offered to drive separately as well.

We stop for dinner, which DD buys (even though I make an attempt to dig my debit card out of the backpack that's buried in his trunk), which is sweet. Not to sweet? My loud jumping toddler who shames me in public.

Luckily we depart for the great outdoors where, upon exiting the car, the three kids immediately run off to play. I sigh in relief and smile at DD.

"Kids," I shrug with a modicum of embarassment.

"I knew they'd be fine once we got out here."

Camping turns out to be fun up for the majority of the evening. His friends are cool (although, I think the boys are all stoners...not DD...and the girls both make disdainful faces and separate the teams into "smart people" and "other people"...and DD admits not to me, but to one of the dudes that he hasn't been doing it for 6 or 7 weeks...huh? that's about how long we've been dating. INNNNTERESTING. I take my judge-y pants off and enjoy my beer) The kids wear themselves out playing and then retire to a tent that DD and I put up in the dark (bad idea).

The world is blissfully relaxed - perfect weather, good company, cold beer. We decide to make one last quick drive to the restrooms which, thankfully, EXIST at this campground.

All is well until I come bounding out of the bathroom and, I'm not sure what happens, but the ground suddenly rises up and smacks into me. DD was already in the car, headlights spotlighting the suddeny flat tire my body has had. I'm a klutz on a good day, but something seems to HURT. He doesn't jump out, so I assume he's laughing and trying to compose himself, so I hobble to the car, slide in and say "well, I TOLD you I wasn't graceful!"

"Oh, baby you are HURT," he says, looking at my knee. I twisted my right ankle...and it's THROBBING so I didn't even notice that I skinned my left knee half off and it's bleeding. Classy. Sexy. Exactly the way to end the night.

He helps me back to the campground and suddenly sleeping on the ground could not look any LESS appealing.

So my ankle is throbbing, the other knee is bleeding and skinned like I'm a 5-year-old...we crawl into the tent at around 1:30 AM and have barely snuggled up when his oldest wakes up and has to the bathroom. He sighs and takes her. They've barely returned some twenty minutes later when MY son wakes up and has to go. Luckily, he's a boy so we hobble out to great outdoors and I tell him how fun it will be to pee in the grass.

We've settled back down - all 5 of us - at about the time the wind picks up. The tent stakes come up at least three times between 2:45 AM and 7 AM. It sounds like a tornado. Somehow the children never stir. DD and I toss and turn until he finally takes the cover off the tent which quiets some of the noise. Sure as he does that, dawn arrives and it begins to rain on us. I pull my sleeping bag over my and my kid's heads and huddle for as long as I can before we all give up and pack up to go home.

We are EXHAUSTED. My kid is hungry and cranky and by the time we pull into DD's driveway, I throw my crap in my own car, pack my whiney child up and head home with a parting kiss on the lips and not much more. It's not a bad parting, just a tired one.

And, I know if I don't go rest and if he doesn't do the same, this great meeting of his family and mind that is to take place poolside at my parents' house later that day is going to be a BUST.

I rally at some point since the pool is clear, it's a diet cheat day, and the sun comes out (mostly). My son goes to sleep and take a 4 hour nap and things look UP.

When DD and his girls arrives, they meet and greet my mom and dad, my sister and her boyfriend, and then we all get in the pool to swim and play for a while. It's fun! DD is clearly still tired, and admits that his girls wouldn't let him sleep, but he hangs in there. He chats up the fam, eats some grilled goodies. The kids play, my sister rides bikes with his youngest - everything is hunky dory.

I hit a wall somewhere around 7:30 and am tired again though. We've eaten, we've schmoozed, I have to work the next day and I've spent the better part of 5 days with him and the better part of 3 days with his kids. I'm tapped out. My own kid has been off his regular sleep schedule for the whole weekend and I have a car full of camping crap and dishes and laundry to do before I can sleep.

DD does NOT take the social cue and make a graceful exit. I have to finally prod and say "I've got to get [my son] home" with an emphatic look. "Are you going to go home and crash after?"

My subtext here is misread. I MEANT "that's what i'm going to do - enjoy. we're tired. peace be with you."

He reads that I want him to come over,saying something about how comfortable my bed is, but how he still has stuff to put away. In a state of sleep-deprived panic I quickly amend that there is ALWAYS tomorrow, which makes him smile and agree.

I try not to shove them out the door, but, I'm close to doing just that. Dude, I like you. I like your kids. I'm all on board with this freaky fast track for the most part becuase I'm having a good time. But I. am. tired. I'm not going to like you if you end up being a source of exhaustion for me. I'm injured from camping and I just want to get my life ready for the two days of work I have to accomplish before vacation.

Thus, needless to say, family bonanza weekend was rife with a comedy of errors (lame circus, ill received church field trip, injuries and windy nights) but I feel like these are the stories will look back on and smile about. So long as he gives me time to rest between these excursions.

Luckily, last night I fell asleep early and missed his inquiring texts. I enjoyed my own bed. To myself. Who knows how long I'll get to keep it.

Moving Too Fast or Moving at the Speed of Attraction?

So, Monday after the sexcapades of Sunday, DD texts as I am getting dressed in the locker room of my gym:

"I don't know about you, but I'm ready for round 2. Last night was hot!"

1) thank you, sir.
2) yes it was.
3) holy hell, I am tired and I still can't feel parts of my wrist and I had to ice my nether bits this morning.

big smile on my face, I respond: "baby, i have to SLEEP!" as well as some mushy stuff so his ego isn't bruised.

Tuesday, my mother is convinced that there will be a tornado and terrible weather so I find myself having a slumber party with my sister, son and mother at her house for the evening.

DD sends some raunchy texts which I eagerly return and then wants to come over.

I have to let him down gently that I am slumbering in the same room that I did when I was a teenager.

Then, hilariously, Wednesday after a cardio kickboxing class, I receive a text that says:

"baby, I have tried to stay away, but I want...no, NEED, to ravish you tonight."

Well, hell, when you put it THAT way...

"come on over!"

Post-coital later that evening, he says with a smile "I was trying to stay away until tomorrow since I know we're spending so much time together this weekend."

I give him a look and recount that he wanted to come over both Monday and Tuesday after sexcapade Sunday.

He looks sheepish: "I guess I just can't get enough of you."

That's not such a bad problem, but I self-deprecatingly respond "give it time."

Either I've bewitched him or he's the kind of guy who jumps headlong and fast into lust and love. I don't trust people like that. They're the "blinded by love" folk that end up looking at you 6 months in and saying "I can't believe you always did THAT thing. It drives me crazy. You JUST started doing it" with regard to some fundamental personality trait that you can't fix, don't want to fix, and then you break up over.

People say I'm cagey about relationships, but I think it's just smart planning for the future. I don't LOVE any less in the long haul. I just get there with a great deal of caution, skepticism and side-eyes.

He invites me to go with him to a birthday bbq for his buddy that we went to the Royals game with, but I have agreed to work at the theatre that night for the education folks. I had planned to take my son with me, but when I mention this and offer to come to the BBQ when we're done, he says that won't work (he has his girls and needs to get them home around the time that I would be getting off. Then he says something that I think I must have heard wrong:

"How about if I come over after work and pick up [your son] and take him over to Joey's with me and the girls? Then I can bring him back after I drop off the girls."

I have to clarify that I haven't heard him wrong: "you want to take my child with you to spend time with WITHOUT me?"

He smiles in a way I'm becoming accustomed to. He's amused by me and thinks I'm young in this smile. I appreciate that he thinks I'm so youthful and that he doesn't talk down to me when he responds "I think it would be good for us to spend some quality time together without you around."

I frown seriously at him. "Stop trying to make me fall in love with you."

This cracks him up.

I'm a little bit serious though and begin to wonder if this is all a devious plot to win my affections more quickly. That's how jaded I am.

I feel a bit less jaded and a little more mushy the next night when he sends me pictures of all the kids playig outside while I am working backstage for the local high school tony awards.

I feel even more mushy when he arrives home after me carrying my sleeping child up the stairs. A sleeping child which I promptly put to sleep and who nods and smiles when I ask him if he had fun.

We're both exhausted this night, and we lay down and talk more and then fall asleep. No hanky panky - just some glowy family talk.

"This just feels different," he says at one point before we pass out. "I feel like you're someone I can build a life with."

I make a noncommittal sound in response, glow inwardly at the thought, and freak out in the next millisecond at the realization that I feel somewhat the same. Currently the only thing weirding me out about him is that nothing is weirding me out.

Friday rolls around with the promise of some adult fun - GAME NIGHT with my two best girls friends and their man friends. The girls have been waiting patiently for me to find a man for eons, so I am excited to host game-night, drop my kiddo off at his grandma's, and put DD up on the alter of friendship judgement.

Before that can happen though, DD comes to retrieve the laundry that I somehow allowed him to do on Wednesday night at my house (I gave him the stink eye about it and he said "I'm spending the next three nights here - when do you want me to do it?" at which point I stopped being a territorial asshole) right after I get off work.

I had planned my time Friday eve before everyone was coming over very carefully, and when DD texts about his clothes, I tell him when I'm going to be home with the thought that he'll be there right then and I can continue on to the grocery store, to drop off my kiddo and get ready for everyone. I'm an event planner by industry and it carries over to my life.

When DD shows up 30 minutes after I get home, and I've only accomplished some minor housecleaning, I internally command myself to be flexible, make-out for long enough to get worked up and then slap myself into go-mode.

"I've GOT to go," I say firmly.

"So..you just want me to go home and come back in 2.5 hours?" he asks.

This is the non-question question I am finding DD to be a master of. It's SO clear what he wants, but he's politely (passive-agressively?!) asking a question instead of just saying "you mind if I stay here while you do what you gotta do?"

I tell him he's welcome to join me as I run OR he can stay here and hang out. He says he'll shower and take a quick nap while I run.

I have the first "ugh, what a man" moment, but take off and carry about my business. When I get home from dropping off my son and picking up more food than 6 people could possibly eat in one evening, I see that DD has NOT showered, but it peacefully sleeping on my bed. I have anohter "ugh what a man" moment followed by a strange sense of possesivenes or happiness or something at the site of him sleeping in my bed. Almost like I wouldn't mind seeing it more often. I softly close the door on him and get to work on the food.

He wakes at some point, comes out to kiss me and then hops in the shower. I realize I have an empty house and a soapy man, but a time crunch. I hurry up cutting veggies. Somehoe, it's 7:15 when the food is done and DD is about to get dressed. I pounce, but he glances at the clock.

"I was trying to leave enough time to seduce you," I lament, realizing we don't have enough time to safely accomplish anything without risk of interruption even though I'm wearing a skirt and he's already in just a towel.

"Someone's a little horny, huh?" he says, getting that dark look all men get when they know they're wanted.

I nod, frustrated, and tromp into the kitchen to open a bottle of wine.

"And you have to leave by 9:30, right?" I confirm, knowing he has to pick up his girls at that time and has them for the WHOLE weekend, which means the likelihood of any sexy times is slim to none.

"Somewhere around there," he says, following me into the kitchen to hug me from behind.

I grumble at this. We have made plans to attend the Circus tomorrow evening with all the kids, go to church with all the kids Sunday morning, and I invited him (and the kids) to spend Memorial Day Monday with me and my family at my mom and dad's house for swimming and a cookout.

"All this time together and none of...that. That's going to lead to some major anticipation," I say, gulping down some wine in hopes of cooling my hormones.

"I thought about that. We may have to figure out something. Maybe we could all stay here tomorrow night?"

I have a 2 bedroom townhome. My son has a full-sized bed, but that still puts me a couple beds shy of a hotel...and with 3 sleeping kids within 20 feet. Dear old married couples with children, HOW DO YOU DO IT!? I am gaining leaps and bounds of appreciation for successful married couples with kids. Your life is no easy thing. We're so impressed upon to believe that that is the norm, the way your life is SUPPOSED to go, but your life is not easy, nuclear family heads. You definitely have to work at keeping the hot stuff hot in the face of family obligations, sleeping children, soccer games, and the like.

Before we can chat too much about a potential family slumber party, the first couple shows up and the evening is off.

We suck at Cranium and lose horribly, but DD keeps up with my friends in social banter. We're a bit of a motley crew, but he's pleasant, has shaved, and is wearing a nice pink button down in which he looks both tailored and manly at the same time. I enjoy my wine, the game (even as I lose) and the companionship...especially his as he sweetly reaches over to squeeze my knee or rub my back a few times. I believe in physical affection. Anybody can talk the talk, but you know you are liked - genuinely - when someone can't keep their hands off you.

I am pleasantly tipsy when DD has to leave, and actually glad for his absence so that I can come back upstairs after sending him off to get everyone's honest opinions.

I walk him downstairs, and change my tune slightly, the wine and sudden denial of any sexy times making my naturally MORE desirous.

We kiss and kiss some more. "I wish you didn't have to go," I say.

"Me too," he says, then kisses me some more. "Til tomorrow."

"Till tomorrow," I agree, finally pulling back and retreating to the hall.

I am in a slightly drunken haze of attraction as I float back upstairs.

"She is in la la land," my friend Jenny says upon my return and observance of my face.

"I LIKE him," I declare.

My friend Sarah's boyfriend - a veritable bar master - starts mixing up cocktails...POTENT cocktails...as we discuss DD. Everyone likes him so far. And, I quickly learn though the second round of cocktails, that both girls have totally spilled the beans on Sexcapade Sunday to their boyfriends. This leads to some questions and, somehow or other, I end up bringing out my infamous sex bag to illustrate visually the lovely dichotomy of DD's admirably family values and devious sexual values.

At some point - an 8-inch dildo ends up suction cupped to my fridge. It's just that kind of conversation. It's hilarious to watch the boys and girls react differently to the tale of attraction, dating and sexcapading. To my great surpise, when I end up outside with the two boyfriends, Jenny's boyfriend Kyle says "I just want to make sure you don't move to fast. You're moving really fast."

I know I'm moving fast...or rather, I have felt that HE is moving fast and I have been along for the ride so long as my comfort level has allowed it. Given my usual cold feet - which I point out to Kyle - this seems to bode well for the depth of our attraction.

"I've been in those kind of relationships. They go fast and then they fall apart."

This disheartens me until Mike, Sarah's boyfriend, who is of a general relationship cagey nature says "I think this is a good thing for you. I would tell you otherwise. I spent a lot of time having to make myself realize my issues were MY issues, and not take that out on Sarah."

"Sarah's GREAT," I exclaim, at which point I realize how drunk I am.

"She is great. She was always great. I just didn't trust it. But that was ME, not her. I'm not saying jump too fast, but I think this guy seems like the right kind of guy for you."

He goes on to say that his roommate, and my former boyfriend, was not.

"He is such a good guy though," I defend, protective, however, strangely, of my ex-boyfriend.

"He's a great guy. He just wasn't the right guy for YOU."

Somehow, the conversation veers to his other friend - hot lawyer - who I'm drunk enough to admit - vehemently - that I don't understand why we didn't make out.

"I thought you would!" Mike exclaims.

"Me too!" I say.

I have a major moment of regret - being of a relationship status that prevents the possibility of a solid make-out session with hot lawyer.

We get quiet - probably both realizing this. Or maybe he's quiet becuase I've admitted that I want to make-out with his buddy, in the same sentence that I exclaimed a state of intense "like" for the person I'm in a relationship with (and who I still can't quite get comfortable calling my "boyfriend")

"Maybe when you're attracted to someone, things just fall into place," I say later that evening to my friend Jenny.

"We weren't facebook offical for 7 months," she says of her boyfriend of 2 years. I was facebook official after 5 weeks.

"Well, we'll either be married in the next year or this will end horribly," I decide finally.

"I think those the options for any relationship," she returns, master of the obvious.

Whatever.

Guest Post # 1: Live From Sheboygan "Kodak Moment"

Welcome to Sheboygan, Wisconsin--population slowly inching to 51,000, tucked on the Lake Michigan shoreline just 50 miles north of Milwaukee. I moved here in the dead of winter to take a dream job, the job a million girls in my field would kill for. But it didn't take long for my new city--and I use the term generously--to confirm what I've long known: Sheboygan may be the Bratwurst Capital of the World, but my taste for such, figuratively speaking, is rather persnickety.

Sheboygan has no shortage of men, I assure you. 40% of the city's jobs are in manufacturing, so the male-to-female ratio is quite favorable. On a/an (insert your expletive of choice here) freezing night after being holed up and lonely in my apartment for just over a month, I reconnected with my old pal match.com. Now, back to that plethora of men and my persnickety taste. Yes. One quick search of the eligible bachelors in my area and I immediately expanded my geographic search to stretch 75 miles beyond my zip code.

Sigh.

Relief.

Search results left me...salivating.

I feel it's only fair that I preface these rendez-vous with this: I believe in match.com, full-heartedly. Truth be told, I'd probably be in a very committed relationship with a fella from match if I still lived in Kansas City. But 10 hours is far too far for me. And timing is everything. And I digress.

Bachelor #1 | 34 years old | Milwaukee, WI

Kodak Moment

(If you bust out with Ray-J's "Sexy Can I," I won't hold it against you. I'll even give you this link so you can listen as you read)
I took this kid's humor in our online banter hook, line, and sinker. His handle eluded to CEO aspirations, and of course I bit that one too...until he told me these plans included him giving all his money away. Damn those do-gooders. The manjewelry hanging from his neck took me back to the mid 90s, but I figured if this relationship had legs, that thing could easily walk itself to the trash, right? Apparently I wasn't the only one hypothesizing.

As I devoured my last slice of VPN pizza, I hear my date say, "Oh wow, that was a good one." I look up mid-chew, with sauce dribbled on my chin. He's grinning at his iPhone.
"What?" I ask.
He's still grinning, his eyes reflecting the glow from his phone. "This is great," he tells me.
"Please...please don't tell me that you just took my picture."
I'm horrified.
"--Why?" He still doesn't get it.
"Because it's creepy, that's why."
"...But...suppose this goes somewhere."
"What?"
"You know, suppose we start dating. Or. Suppose it goes even further than that..."
My jaw drops.
"Don't you want a photo to remember our first date?"
I'm suddenly wishing I had more pizza to stuff my face for distraction.
"I don't know, I'm just the type of guy who'd make something to randomly put in your purse....to remind you of this night...when we met....years from now.
Probably a good thing my mouth was empty...I would have choked. I then immediately entered freaked out bitch mode, started laughing and said, "OK creepster, be a good boy and delete that nonsense from your phone."

I should have told him to delete my phone number while he was at it.

You Know It's Good When You Need A Hooha Ice Pack The Next Morning OR How I Got Roped Into Being a Girlfriend

People of the world, let it be declared: I have bagged myself a Grade A Sex God.

The result of which, by hook or by crook, is that I am now a GIRLFRIEND.

Confused?

Let me back up.

I worked a VERY long work week, had a 16-hour event day Saturday, then managed to get up, go to church, have a ladies' lunch, work out and go to my ex-boyfriend's brother's graduation party. I had early on said that I would call DD upon departure from the grad party and we would get together but after all of THAT, I was flippin' TIRED. And, as mentioned, DD and I have a terrible track record for JUST SLEEPING.

I call and he says he's been out working in the yard all day and will need to take a shower.

I seize the opportunity to offer a raincheck.

"I don't really want to unless you do," he says, sounding a little pouty about the whole thing.

"Shower away. See you soon," I say.

Damn it all.

I go home, bathe my child and put him to bed before I hear my phone alert me to a text message.

"Hey, got the impression you're not really up for a wild night. I would like to come see you, but if you're not down for it I guess we can reschedule...if you ARE up for a wild night, I would appreciate you dressing up in your sexiest outfit for me."

Well, that sounds promising.

"I will rally," I text back.

DD arrives and has clearly taken a trip to the adult fun store. Bold and awesome. Of the few things he takes out to SHOW me (promising some surprises for later) I am impressed, frightened, and totally excited.

Kids, I like sex. I've never been accused of not liking it, and I've had some pretty fantabulous nights of debauchery in my time.

This one takes the cake.

I'm pretty sure an hour and half in that I almost pass out, and have to tell him to LEAVE ME BE for like 30 seconds or I'm going to die.

And as the blindfold comes off and I see it's 1:00 in the morning, I don't know where the energy came to survive it all, but I'm sure glad that it did, and I find myself uttering the single dumbest phrase that a girl has ever uttered to a man:

"There's literally nothing you could ask of me right now that I wouldn't do for you."

REALLY!? Where did that come from? Somewhere deep in the depths of my sex coma. I got sex stupor-ed or something. I don't know! Damn you, hormones!

He pauses in the dark and then says "I know what I want from you."

I don't get worried until he turns away from me. "I can't look at you to say this."

OH God. Oh God, it's going to be bad. He's been given carte blanche by my dumb ass to ask anything that his little old hormones desire and I'm about to find out he likes midgets or scat or something horrific that I've never even thought of.

With him facing away from me, I sober up from the sex high and fear for the worst, ready myself for that other shoe to drop and to learn that I've been dating some sort of sociopath or sexual deviant.

"I don't know how to say this without sounding like a dick..." he continues.

Oh, it's something that will be degrading and that will make me hate him. What could it be? I think of as many gross terrible things that might come out of his mouth as I can muster in a few seconds, try to prepare myself for the possibilities, but my brain isn't functioning fully yet. It's still offline from the marathon sexcapades. Come back, brain! Damn you, hormones!

"I want you to claim me."

Wait, what?

"Uh...what?" I say out loud, wondering if this is some code I don't understand in some sexual world I'm not a part of...yet.

He rolls back over to look at me, suddenly very serious. I would feel more capable of seriousness if he would undo these damn handcuffs that are starting to hurt as the adrenaline is fading. There's something to be said for the fuzzy handcuffs that I owned with an ex-boyfriend once upon a time that if I pulled hard enoughI could escape from. These suckers are LEGIT.

"I want you to claim me," he repeats emphatically. Finally reading my mind...or realizing this is a conversation to be had with both parties unrestrained, he reaches up to release me and I rub my wrists while he continues. "I want you to take down your match profile and to put on facebook that I'm yours. That you want to be with me."

Oh. OH! Oh, oh, oh!

I try to recover quickly - something I'm not fully capable of yet. "You want to be my boyfriend" I sing-song playfully.

He doesn't even crack a smile. Just looks at me seriously. I swallow hard.

"Ok....ok," I say softly.

"Ok?" he repeats as if he expected me to say "HELL TO THE NO"

"Ok," I affirm, crawling under the covers and wondering if there is nerve damage in my hand because I can't feel part of it.

"I was thinking about what you keep saying about non-labels, and taking it slow...but, I was getting aggravated working on the lawn today thinking about it. I mean, we've met eachother's kids, and friends, and everything's going great...and I mean, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...it's a fuckin' duck, right? And it doesn't mean you can't change your mind tomorrow. If we're going to do this, then let's DO this. I just...I mean, I've been in relationships where one person has liked the other more...I'm usually the one that likes the other less but I think this may be the opposite."

"I LIKE YOU," I say for the thousandth time. Is he listening to me!?

"But..."

"Oh listen," I say, suddenly realizing the root of his worry, "I like you a lot. And here's what you should think about...I get freaked out when I like someone a lot. I start thinking about the future and the implications of it all and my sense of self gets weirdly threatened...so, just remember, the cagier I get the more it means I like you. Everytime I'm weird, just sit back and say "oh, she's REALLY liking me." Does that help?"

He looks at me a little bit like I've sprouted a third eye but nods.

"You've got to remember these are uncharted waters for me. I haven't been married, I haven't even lived with a man, I've never dated someone with kids and I've only dated one other person since I had a kid. I'm going to be cagier about some of this stuff than you are in your Yoda-like dating experience," I explain.

He smiles at that.

"So you're my girl?" He puts his arm around my shoulders.

"I'm your girl."

After round i've-lost-count of sexual deviance when we wake up in the morning, I have a thought that he knows me well enough to know that I am atypical in the girl sense. Women are accused of using sex as a tool to get what the want, but I am 99.9% sure that my now-boyfriend sexed me into a coma in order to have my defenses down. Granted, I knew I was on borrowed time with my lame "slow and steady wins the race" business, and I'm OKAY being a girlfriend.

I realized today that it's not being HIS girlfriend that bothers me. I was a girlfriend once. A devoted, ridiculous girlfriend. I lost myself in that relationship, in that boy. After him, something in me decided that had SUCKED and worked hard to find a sense of self and independance. Falling for someone, letting them in, feels like someone chipping at this giant wall of SELF. From that damn toothbrush to this declaration of official relationship-dom, my warning bells have nothing to do with the so far nothing-but-fabulous DD, but with my own lack of confidence in my ability to maintain my SELF and also be GOOD GIRLFRIEND. I didn't know how to be both with the last person I fell in love with. I chose what I thought GOOD GIRLFRIEND meant.

But DD made it feel different.

"I know there's something real here. You...you're what I'm looking for," he said.

"Oh, you...just wait," I say like a broken record waiting for him to find something he hates about me.

"I don't expect you to be perfect. I don't think you're perfect, I like you for being exactly who you are. So long as you're not pretending to be someone you're not..."

"I'm NOT," I interject defensively.

"Then just be you. I like YOU. I like all the things that make you YOU."

Oh, lord Jesus, I am in trouble.

And so, Monday morning after DD leaves for work, I sit down at the computer and cancel my match.com membership. "I've met someone" I mark on the "why are you leaving?" survey options. I forward him the cancellation.

Then, perhaps with even more trepidation, I get on facebook and change my status to "in a relationship" with him.

There, done. That wasn't so hard. I get up from the computer, grab the icepack I was sitting on to heal my sexcapade battle wounds (holy crap!), glance at my bruised wrists and bounce off to work with a smirk on my face and a new relationship in my pocket.

A Meeting o' Manfriends Past and Present

Friday night I worked 13 hours, followed by a 16 hour Saturday. My job is demanding.

Through fortune or fate, Friday night is a night where invited friends and family can attend the show that we had rehearsed all week for Saturday night's event and at which both DD and first-love/current-friend would both be attending. I wanted DD to see where I worked and get a glimpse of what I did. When I learned that FL/CF would be there, I thought it was a good chance for them to meet...very briefly.

I was slightly worried that FL/CF would be a dbag to DD, but was pleased when upon conclusion of the show as I walked DD upstairs to get my keys so he could go back to my place and wait for me that we met FL/CF, his mother and his mother's best friends (whose daughter was in the show) and they were cordial...and it was brief.

This led to an interesting conversation regarding platonic relationships between men and women, and also the reality of friendships with exes.

"You're friends with your ex," I point out.

"I'm friendly with my ex becuase of our daughters. It's not the same," he says.

Valid point.

"I might be weird then. I have always had close male friends. I used to crash in my friends' beds without so much as an inappropriate move made, and vice versa."

"Not even a boob squeeze attempt?" DD asks. He's not even joking.

"Nope."

"They thought about it."

"Well, I didn't. And if they did, they knew me well enough to know they'd get an elbow in the eye in retaliation."

"You're a tough girl," he says.

I've never been considered tough. Weeny. That's my usual label.

"You really think so?" I ask, settling into the idea that I might secretly be a badass and not even know it.

"You don't take shit."

"Well, that's true," I agree.

"I'm don't feel jealous. I get jealous, but I don't feel that right now. Maybe becuase I trust you or believe that there's nothing to worry about...in this moment. I mean, I don't really want you sleeping in other guys beds NOW..." I quickly interject that this is a non-issue. I am a mother of morals and virtues. He gives me a little look on the "virtue" part of my statement.

"So, in this moment, I'm fine with it."

There were a LOT of disclaimers about being fine with it now as if to say that may not ALWAYS be the case.

"Well, they're not going anywhere," I say, bristling

"That's fine."

Good, I think. He's being cool about this things that all my girlfriends think will be my great relationship downfall - or one of the things that is doomed to be my great relationship downfall - my man friends (space intended). I've had friends tell me that no guy will EVER be okay with me being as close to boys as I am. I've always argued that the right man would be.

There has to be something wrong with this guy. Things can't be this easy, can they? He's clearly a closeted axe murderer. Or he hits puppies or something.