This is what it's supposed to look like

So for all you women out there trying to wade through and make sense of the confusing does-he-like-me-are-we-dating-or-just-friends quagmire, I have your answer.

Here's what it's supposed to look like: So I met this guy on Match.com and on the third email he quit beating around the bush and asked me out. (Note to internet daters: I do not need another excuse to dick around and waste time online. This website is to facilitate meeting people in REAL LIFE. I don't need cyber boyfriends. So either ask me the fuck out already or stop emailing me twice a day with your ridiculous small talk and emoticons. Thank you.) We went out for tacos and margaritas. Everything went swimmingly (as far as I was concerned), we had great conversation, had a lot in common and I didn't get too drunk, confess wildly inappropriate stories for a first date or do anything else to horribly embarrass myself.

As he WALKED ME TO MY CAR, (get ready, this part is key) BEFORE THE DATE WAS OFFICIALLY OVER, he ASKED IF I WANTED TO HANG OUT AGAIN. I said yes. Then we hugged and he said he would call me. He texted two days later and said he would be busy studying for finals for the next few days but that he had fun with me and wanted to hang out again.

I texted him after his finals to ask how they went and he IMMEDIATELY CALLED ME and asked what I was doing that night. We ended up meeting for drinks that very night. Then, he walked me to my car again and KISSED ME GOODNIGHT. (As an aside: what the kiss symbolized was way more important than the actual kiss. The actual kiss was clumsy because he was wearing a hat and I was wearing spectacles so we had to maneuver around facial obstacles. Also, it was raining, we were standing in the middle of the road and almost got hit by a car. But that's not the point. The kiss moves our relationship from two strangers, who met on the internets, hanging out in a bar, to hey, I might be romantically interested and might think about dating you.) Translation: I think you are cool/attractive enough to want to hang out with again and the thought of maybe possibly getting naked with you sometime in the near future does not make me recoil in horror.

You know what DOESN'T say that? Fleeing my apartment like it's on fire with barely a goodbye and a one-armed hug with a bike between you. Also, rationing sex doesn't say that (more on that later.)

Then, he TEXTED ME THE NEXT DAY and said he had fun again. He said he wanted to hang out again and that he would call me soon.

Now, I have no reason to believe this will end in anything less than a spectacular implosion like so many other dating scenarios that have become the fodder for this blog. And I'm not even sure yet if I really like him. But I don't even care. Even if I never hear from him again, I will be OVERJOYED that this has at least gotten as far as it has and that this guy seems to GET all of the little social cues and nuances of dating and what you are SUPPOSED to do if you might like someone. He's playing by the rules. He's predictable. He makes sense. He does not leave me scratching my head and cursing the confusing boy behavior. I know where I stand after only two dates.

And THAT is what it's supposed to look like. Write that down.

Managing Expectations... Jazz Hands

I booked a ticket to NYC this week. It's an exploratory mission to determine whether a permanent return to the East Coast is what I really want. The added bonus is actual sex with my favorite phone sex fella.

After I booked the ticket and informed the boy, whom I haven't seen in a year, I realized I am a liar. I tell him (and others) that it's purely sex that I am after in his case. I'm human, I'm liberated, I'm training for an Iron Man, I'm going on a humanitarian trip to Haiti in April. I am woman hear me roar. I'm FINE with casual. Right? I am a born people pleaser and I can tap dance as fast as needed. Jazz Hands.

I am also acutely aware that he is about as jumpy as they come. Boy's got rabbit in him. I'd like to meet his mother, or the girl that obviously worked him over cause he is the total package of emotional baggage to be sure. I do love a challenge.

I actually don't know what his story is, not really.

We met over a year ago. There was an instant attraction, but he was seeing an old friend of mine so off limits. Things with them ended and we had a secret little fling a few months later. You are free to judge me on this. I probably deserve it. Attraction is however a strange thing. The instant I met him, I took a deep breathe and thought, gulp, be cool, this one could be trouble. It's my theory when you meet someone that stops you in your tracks like that, it must mean you would have healthy babies or something. It can't have anything to do with actual compatibility with a total stranger. I don' t believe in love at first sight. It's just nature's way of saying, oh, y'all would be a good fit to propagate the species. That's my theory, anyhow.

We started an email/text flirtation. He made me laugh and most importantly, he was just the right combo of aloof and charming to make me chase him just a little bit. The emotionally unavailable are my specialty after all. He showered me with attention, I responded. Who doesn't like attention? He pulled back just as I started to get really interested and suddenly I was chasing him. It eventually ended, as it usually does, with me getting sick of it and telling him to go to hell. I really stuck to my guns and didn't hear from him for almost a year. He texted me over Christmas to apologize for his previous behavior. It got me thinking about how much fun it is to have someone to flirt with regularly... yada yada yada I already like him more than I want to admit. Rats. Foiled again.

I'm a big girl now I suppose (bigger at least than the one who fell for ex-boyfriend, yikes, ask me about the housewarming poetry slam sometime) but I can't help but wonder if I perhaps do need to manage my expectations just a little bit. In the words of my co-worker Brian, "Dating is a numbers game, see a lot of people, hedge your bets, don't settle". I fancy Brian a bit of an off beat life guru. (He is also captain of non sequiturs and sweets. He fills the silence with statements like, "Luke Perry is a Dick" and the space in his top drawer with reeses. He can stay.) I am going to try taking his advice. Flings are good for the soul, just as long as the head keeps the heart in check. I doubt Scarlett Johansson is going to regret rolling around in Mexico with Sean Penn on her death bed, no ma'am, I do not think so.