oh sweet jesus, send help.

It all feels like a big joke, something that, for redeeming qualities must be funny to someone. Someone very far from here though, because its not funny at all to me.

Adult dating. If you haven't experienced it, I would like to let you know, is no fun. Zero fun sir. Once you graduate from college, it all goes to hell. It all changes, and I realized I don't know how to maneuver this, no one taught me too, and everyone in my family and close group of friends is already waving to me, their other hand in someone else's, and I am faking a smile back as I swim through this shit.
I've been on a bit of a streak lately with men, and have been wined and dined and escorted through the halls of art museums with my coat in his arms quite often lately. This should probably be fun. I mean, come on, a parade of handsome men, handing their credit cards to the person behind the counter confidently for the meals, coffees, admission tickets and beers we consume and asking if they can see me again on the way to walking me to the front door. Shit, they are even opening the car doors for me. Its not really that fun though.
I sit in the car as he asks if I am warm enough, do I want him to turn on the seat warmer on the leather seat I am awkwardly sliding around on, and all I can think of is...how the hell can I explain to him that its funny when James attacks me from out of nowhere and grabs my breasts. Or how Abby and I laughed until we cried when she ran into the window on Halloween. Why its okay that sometimes I eat dinner three times. That sometimes when I'm bored, James and I go to Target and try on clothes or wander around the aisles for no reason at all. That sometimes I go to a coffee shop as far away from my house as possible, just to look out the window at the passing cars. That I need my headphones to escape more than anything else in the world. That I would be happy to eat rice and beans for the rest of my life. That I'm a vegetarian who doesn't really give a rip about PETA. That I'm a preschool teacher who has her nipples pierced. That I'm a bit of a hippie and have never smoked pot. That I spent 20 years in the church, but have friends that shot heroine and I have no intentions in trying to stop them. That smoking is gross, but I love the smell of a freshly lit cigarette. That I want to be a mom. That sometimes, I don't. The suburbs make me shaky. That sometimes I have a peanut butter sandwich in the middle of the night. I hate bowling. I barely watch movies. I haven't watched the news for about three years, because I don't want it in my life anymore. Springtime is as close to god as I can understand. I just bought the most makeup as I have ever owned in my life, and I'm sorry, but I think I look perfectly fine without it. I have about a zillion coffee cups in the back of my car. I look like a badass when I am under my ninja mask on my bike, but I am the least cool person on the planet. That I am not impressed by your money. That I am a strong independent women, but I hope to hell that you will kiss me first, and not the other way around. I have bought my last five pairs of shoes at the thrift stores, and prefer it that way. I like eating out of bowls. I want stability in my life with the same passion from which I am scared of it. 9-5 scares me. You even scare me a little because of how you could bring those things to me. Scary movies scare me. Real life dark alleys don't. I hate showering in the morning, it makes me feel weird all day. I always stop that gas pump at an even dollar. Coffee? dark. Toast? light.
And that was only the tip of the iceberg of just me.
What about him? I feel like I don't know a damn thing.
This kind of knowledge, this degree of explanation, this much knowing seems so far from where he is, so far to where he needs to be seems impossible. I watch people I am close to and think its impossible to reach that point that I see the two of them at. Which is ironic, because yes, I have been there before, but it seem so far away right now. Familiarity seems so unlike where I am now. There is so much, I just want to say,"ya know, never mind. I was doing fine, I don't need to bother with this"...and walk off.

But damn it. I didn't. He asked if he could call me again, and I said yes, and with a smile. He asked when I was free next, and I told him. I AM trying. but shit.
Adult dating is way more tricky than it looks like on sitcoms.
Should I call HIM? Will he call me? Do either of us give a shit? Does he really like me, or is he just as confused as me.
He told me I was so cute, he could barely handle it. True? Is that your line? Do I believe you? Should I? Why the hell am I being so cynical?
Oh yes...its all those heartaches, its the fact that I can't count the number of times I have had to bend over and pick up my heart from the cracks in the sidewalk. Maybe he is the same.
Maybe he's not.
I have a pile of numbers in my phone that make me blush remembering the rejection or when the calls stopped, remembering the bear hugs from James. I also know this all boils down to not wanting to try again just to have my heart ripped to pieces for another time, another time I have lost track to count. And I know that is no way to live, I know that is a sad sad answer, and I know that thought won't win, but it does drive a tempting bargain.
Time. yes, we need time. Which is why I am trying to just keep puttering down this road.
But dear lord. Last night, after a fantastic dinner, full of conversation and laughing we went out for a drink, I was standing in front of him, looking up (he's tall) and we are swapping tales, laughing and quite fine, a women staggers up to us. Out of nowhere, and asked if we can help her settle a bet. Are we on a first date?" she prods.
Damn. It was that obvious? I thought we were doing fine. And come on, how long have you been watching us lady? Geeeeez.
One of these guys kissed me, very well, at the side of my car while the snow swirled around us. The other quickly hugged me at the front door and scurried off. One used crossing the street as a excuse to find my hand, the other braved touching my back for a few brief moments over the course of our night out. One told me I was beautiful. One I catch looking at my boobs, but it sorta makes me smile. And its not the one you are thinking. Is the one just more confident than the other, or just more sleezy. Is the second one more respectful? Or less interested?
Yes, I get nervous when either of these men are on their way over to my house to pick me up, but is it because of butterflies upon seeing them, or am I just dreading what weird things could ensue over the next few hours? Shouldn't I know which one is giving me this anxiety? Why am I even talking about this? Its a first or second date. Its a novel situation though, because up until now, dating has been meeting a cute guy at a party, or a friend of a friend and hanging out with him until its unmistakable that something more is there, and at some point you just meld together and begin dating. Now, complete strangers ask if they can buy me dinner, and I think to myself...what are the chances we have anything in common? Or next, that we have some chemistry, and that we want the same kind of relationship, and that its meant to be. I don't even think people have soul mates or that that fate is real, but its hard to believe that you should settle down with someone until you think those things are satisfied, that you are suppose to be with them. I only assume they want to get into my pants, because that's what I have experienced so far. The chances that a man walking down the street could understand me, and want to be with me, seems impossible. Not because I'm not fabulous, because really, I am, but because it just seem like a one in a million.