This week I have had, dear readers, what you might call a relationship epiphany.  An aha! moment.  The lightbulb going on.  It’s both awesome and sort of troubling.  Here goes.

Between conversations with my therapist, N.  and with my informal, pro bono relationship advisers T. and M., I have given a lot of thought this week to what I have liked or been attracted to in the last few guys that I’ve dated, basically since my ex-fiance.  As I tried to think about what drew me to these guys I recognized an undeniable pattern.  All of them were guys I felt physically attracted to or felt chemistry with — in some cases, totally overwhelming, crazy chemistry.  All of them were guys who were really smart/witty.  But there was not a one — not a ONE, people — who I could say with a straight face is a truly sweet, kindhearted person.  And in theory (according to my online dating profiles, according to what I always think of when I think of my ideal life partner, according to what I say I want to everyone), kindheartedness is at the top of my list.  And yet none of these guys have been that person.  None of these guys have been someone about whom I could say, “Even if you took away the sexual chemistry and intrigue, this is someone I’d want in my life as a friend.”  In fact, when I erase the lust factor, some of these guys aren’t people that I like very much as people, at all!  What is wrong with this picture?

M. tried to get me to think about this months ago, to which I responded something like “yeah, yeah, yeah.”  She pointed out that I might meet a guy who is smart and sweet and kind and caring, and I might overlook him because he’s not the height I want or various other superficial things.  At the time, I responded, “yeah, but if I go for someone I’m not totally hot for, then I’ll just be settling.”

But I really think I get it now.  It’s not that I will end up with someone I have no spark with, because there has to be a spark (IMHO).  But I also can’t overlook people 100% because of superficial characteristics, and then simultaneously “settle” in regards to certain personality characteristics, which I have been doing.  With each of the last several guys there has always been something (pessimism, drinking excessively, what have you) that has raised a red flag or made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I have just turned a blind eye because 1) I was attracted to these people in some way and 2) I wanted that badly to be in a relationship.

Well, dear readers, that ends here.  From now on, I am screening my guys for more than compatibility over cocktails or in bed.  I am going to look at the person and say, ok, I may be hot for you now, but are you the person I am going to want across the breakfast table from me in 10, 20, 50 years?  If the answer is no, then move along, please.

Which is a perfect segue to my update about EHB.  Unsurprisingly (sorry to those of you who have been rooting for him), I have not heard a peep from him since he promised we’d have our “conversation” “soon.”  My normal M.O. in the past when I feel like a guy is fading away is to 1) freak out and 2) reach out and text them, IM them, call them, etc to try to keep the thing going.  I would chase these boys till I was blue in the face, but never really think about why I was trying so hard to chase them and what i would do if I caught them.

So I thought about IMing EHB, and then I thought about what the outcome would be, and whether it would be what I want.  I thought about whether I even wanted what I thought I wanted — a relationship with EHB.  And I realized the answer was no.  I realized that despite some great early dates and some good chemistry, there were also some big red waving flags that I was stubbornly ignoring.  And why would I go chasing after that?  For the momentary intrigue, the excitement, the potential of some good sex (sigh).  But that’s it.  Not a compelling reason, dear readers, is it?

So I refrain, and I will let this one die the natural death that it should.  And in all honesty, I feel incredibly peaceful about it.

When I start freaking out about the next boy, make me come back and read this, will ya?

Had I written this post last night when I planned to, after a strong-but-yummy Mandrin Cosmo at the Tropicana Bar at the Roosevelt (sheesh I’m a lightweight), it would have been much more unhappy and much less rational.  But clearer heads prevailed and I decided to sleep on the situation, and as it turns out, time, advice of everyone I know, and…well, sobriety, have lent some much needed perspective. 

Ok, I will  stop being cryptic and get to the story!  So as you may have gathered from my last few posts –or, let’s face it, this whole blog — dating pretty much turns me into a bona fide loon, and it’s been no different with EHB.  (My sincere apologies to everyone whose ears I have bent on the subject so far.)  Last Monday we went out for a drink (he had gotten a head start) and he told me that he would answer any yes-or-no question that I posed to him.  I was feeling a little gun shy, so while I asked him quite a few things, I definitely didn’t take full advantage of the situation.

Later in the week, we were chatting online and I joked that I had more questions to ask him the next time we hung out.  I didn’t really have many specific questions in mind, but I wanted to see his reaction.  He said to ask away and he’d decide whether to answer. 

Then last night he came to yet another summer event for my firm — this time dinner and the Feist concert at the Hollywood Bowl.  (The bummer was that he had to leave only a few songs into Feist because the opening acts took so long and he had so much work to do, but I appreciated him coming even though it meanthe had to stay up late working last night, and probably tonight.)  It was a really pretty night and we sort of snuggled up with his arm around me at the concert.  In between acts, when we were out of earshot from my co-workers, he started asking me what my questions were.  He commented that he could guess what my questions were going to be about.  I asked some random things, then he said he’d thought I was going to ask about our relationship and where it was going — which was definitely not my plan.  But somehow when he asked what my next question was and was looking at me so intently with his beautiful green eyes, saying “come on, what do you want to know?”  I blurted out, “Are you dating?”

He paused.  “Am I going on dates?  Yes.  Am I sleeping with other people?  No.”

I instantly regretted going there.  I can tell that my face fell – I couldn’t help it.  He continued, “I think it’s important that you also be keeping an open mind about meeting people.” 

“Ok, so you want things to be casual?” I asked.  “Well, not physically casual,” he replied.

He went on to say that he thought it was healthy to be open to meeting other people until both people have a talk and define what the relationship is.  “So let’s talk,” he said.

But we were at the Hollywood Bowl, surrounded by people, and despite my wishes, I could feel a lump forming in my throat and I bit my lip and forced a fake smile.  (He totally called me on that, by the way.  Damn.)  We decided this wasn’t the ideal time or place to have any kind of talk like that, so we tabled it.  Not too long afterward, he had to leave, and the half-finished conversation hung in the night air as I spent the rest of the concert trying to think happy thoughts and trying to keep myself warm.

I went through the whole gamut of emotions over this.  I analyzed and re-analyzed every word, trying to figure out what this meant.  Maybe he wants me to be his booty call until he meets someone he actually wants to date.  Except he hasn’t been booty calling me, and he has been dating me.  Maybe he wants to take things slow and not try to define it yet.  He did say that his last relationship moved too fast and that was a mistake, so it would be understandable to be gun-shy.  (And really, we probably haven’t known each other long enough for a DTR anyway, right?)  Maybe he does want to define things, but wants to find out where I’m at first.  Maybe he has a couple other girls he is interested in and hasn’t made up his mind yet.

But the bottom line that I realized (thanks to all my friends’ advice) is this: there is no way I will know where he’s coming from or what he’s thinking until I actually talk to him about it, so right now I am suffering a whole lot of useless angst.  And the good news is that he is incredibly open and honest, and I know he won’t beat around the bush when we talk.

Today he sent me some chats on Gmail, saying that he was really busy at work but that he wanted to say hi, and saying “We’ll have our conversation soon… “ 

I don’t really know what I feel at this point.  Fundamentally I think he’s right that it’s good to keep an open mind, even though in practice I am virtually incapable of dating multiple people at once.  And even though it hurt my feelings a bit to hear it, I know what he’s doing is normal….I think.  So I think all I can do is keep my mind and heart open and know that whatever happens, it will be for the best.

I will keep you posted, dear readers…

I thought it would be totally blissful once things had calmed down enough at work so that I could actually take a breath.  I imagined that I would enjoy the summer as I should — going out to long lunches, leaving early, etc.  But instead of merely slowing to a manageable pace, my workload has suddenly ground to a halt.  I have work lurking out there, but I am waiting on other people’s work / revisions to be able to make next steps.  My plan had been to ride things out for 3 weeks until i leave for Europe (yay!) but it looks like that might not be possible.  After all, there is only so much blog-reading, Facebook checking and online shopping (or rather browsing) that a girl can do.

Two side notes before I get to the heart of the post.  First, speaking of online shopping, what do you think of this swimsuit?  I’m going to Vegas for a bachelorette party in a couple weeks, where there will be much pool time, and am sick of all my old suits.

Second, speaking of Facebook, thanks to its evilness I have been subjected to unwanted sets of shmoopy photos this week — one of C. and his new girlfriend (don’t get me started).

I’ve discovered that for me, down time = just more time to think about my neuroses.  Today I’ve been contemplating the frightening uncertainty of relationships.  I guess that’s part of what makes a new relationship exciting, the not knowing — but all it does is give me a big ulcer.  In a situation where it would serve me well go with the flow, I find myself insteaf thrashing helplessly against the current.  Last night, as I mentioned, EHB came over.  We went out for a drink, then we hung out at my apartment, then it turned into a sleepover during which we stayed up half the night doing various and sundry things that go beyond the scope of what I will write about on this blog (to spare the people who actually know me in real life from serious TMI).  But in any event, things were really really good.

But can I just sit still and smile and say “things are good”?  No, of course not.  I start worrying and obsessing and imagining what bad things could be lurking off in the distance.

I don’t know if I mentioned this, but EHB was married before.  It’s interesting because I always thought that would be a dealbreaker for me.  But I learned about it on our 1st date and it didn’t make me want to date him any less.  Who am I to judge, seeing as how I broke off my engagement?  I thought long and hard about why I had always been so wary of dating someone who was divorced, and the answer I came up with is this: divorce is a big reminder that things often don’t work out the way you expect or want them to.  Not only is there uncertainty in the first month of dating, before you get engaged, before you get married — really, things are never certain. 

 I always imagined that I’d marry someone and we’d be each others’ first loves.  But I’ve had loves in my life already, and I’d be hard pressed to find a guy who hasn’t (and really, why would I want a 30 year old guy who’s never been in love?)  But without that first love thing, how do you believe that this relationship will last when all the others have failed? In the face of such massive uncertainty, how do you move past the paralyzing fear?  How do you trust someone?  How do you take that giant leap of faith?  I hope I don’t feel this way forever, but I’m afraid I’ll never be in a relationship where I don’t feel the constant anxiety and uncertainty.  How does one begin to get over this?

And in the short term, how do I quiet my restless heart and mind enough so that I can just get some sleep?

Dear readers, I wrote the following post on the plane on my way back from Oregon last night.  I was debating whether or not to publish it because I just don’t feel the level of angst that this post conveys anymore, but I figure since I took all the time to pour out my thoughts (and since I, coming down with a cold and exhausted from a long day, can’t muster up the energy for a whole new post), I would publish this anyway.  Here goes!

************

I am writing this with complete and utter candor, despite knowing that I will be incurring some serious yelling from my tough-love girlfriends (love you girls!). But really, if I can’t bare all on the blog, what’s the point, right?

This weekend I went up to Eugene to see my family, which was fun but always leaves me feeling utterly, all consumingly exhausted. I don’t know if it’s just something in the water up there or what. The first day I was there, Friday, I felt plenty energetic, but on Saturday and today I just felt like curling into a little ball and going to sleep, despite sleeping in both days. Go figure. It’s when I go away for these little weekends that I know that I really consider L.A. to be my home, because I am writing this from the airplane and I cannot wait to be back in L.A., back in my apartment, cuddled up with Noodles and alone with my own thoughts. I think maybe part of the issue is that I’m so accustomed to living alone and having lots of “me” time — no matter what happens during a long and crazy day I always come home alone at the end of the day and have time to myself to laugh, cry, veg, call people on the phone, etc. At my parents’ house, there is nowhere to go to just be by myself. My parents are watching my every move, my every facial expression, my every reaction. I love my parents to death and they mean well, but I guess it’s no wonder that this inability to be alone and take a breath makes me feel tired.

And this is especially true when things happen that I just need to be able to step back and process. Friday night I hung out with C. for the first time since I went to visit him in Yachats. Now, dear readers, believe me when I say that until the past week or two he hadn’t been on my mind barely at all. We were still chatting occasionally on IM, and being friendly, but I knew he was sort of seeing someone and I was going on my own dates and I didn’t really care one way or another.

But then as my visit approached, there was a shift. Originally he was planning to throw a party on Fri night, and I was contemplating attending. Then he bagged the party idea and we decided to go to a couple of bars downtown. Then it turned out he had an early morning on Sat for bar review (let me just take a moment to thank God that I never have to take the bar again — all the more reason not to leave California!) so we decided to just have a mellow night and watch a movie. As the day approached, his comments got more and more…suggestive, so I was pretty sure I knew what he was thinking and I realized that I just needed to figure out how i felt about it and what I wanted to do.

Of course, instead of making any actual decisions about this, I just decided to see how I felt in the moment, which basically assured that things would transpire exactly as they did. I went over to C.’s apartment, where he was in the final stages of moving out (meaning that he still had his TV but not his couch.) C., true to form, had already opened a bottle of wine and poured me a hefty glass. We stood around in the kitchen chatting and laughing for a while until we decided to sit down and watch the movie I had brought (Across the Universe — still in love with Jim Sturgess). Since he had no couch we plopped down on the floor and leaned against the wall. (My butt, which could not be more bony, almost immediately went numb). We watched the movie, talking and joking intermittently. We were sitting close together, but not touching each other. I wavered between suspecting that he was going to pounce on me at any moment, and thinking that perhaps I was wrong and we were just going to hang out as friends and that would be that.

But sure enough, about an hour or so into the movie, he looked at me, I looked at him, he moved his face closer to mine, his nose touched mine, and then he was kissing me. And then I was kissing him back. Now, I don’t want to romanticize this situation because I know it’s far from romantic, but the one thing I will say is that he is a truly awesome kisser…when we were teenagers, and now. And again, as they say, the rest is history. And, physically anyway, it was pretty awesome…hey, a girl’s got needs.

Unlike last time, when we cuddled and spooned and fell asleep together and I was awoken by my mom’s worried call, this time there was none of that pretense. Soon after we finished, I was dressing and we were saying goodbye. We made some chit chat and kissed a little bit more, but he didn’t make the move to come downstairs…he stood up and looked at me from over the railing upstairs and asked if I was ok to drive home and told me to have a good rest of the weekend. The whole time, the mood was very lighthearted and we were giggling and smiling — there was none of the serious talks or tears on my part that there were in Yachats.

 As I was driving home, I thought to myself, Finally — I have learned to separate out the physical from the emotional. As the weekend progressed, though, I felt something heavy and unnamed settle over my heart. And I realized that it wasn’t what I had thought it was all along. It’s not that I’m in love with C. or that I truly want us to be together. For all the history and fun and good chemistry we have, as I have said a million times, he’s a disaster and we would be a disaster together. It’s more that C. represents what I feel like has been emblematic in every meaningful interaction I’ve had with guys since I broke up with my ex fiance — a guy who only wants me the way he wants me, but doesn’t really care about me the way I care about him.

Like A., who thought he wanted me to break off my engagement but then told me he just “didn’t care enough to try” anymore.  Like my recent dates who have wanted the physical stuff to come way before any strong connection or commitment. It’s bad enough with all those guys. But for the same thing to happen with C. — the 1st guy who ever told me he loved me, the first guy I ever loved, the guy I have kept such a soft spot for all these years — is just particularly hard to handle. Even though I know that deep down I don’t want to be with him, I do still have some feelings for him, and it’s hard for me to stomach the fact that he can be so intimate with me when he has no feelings for me whatsoever — and then be so cavalier about it.

All that being said, I did feel like this weekend was some sort of goodbye. Nothing was said and I have no idea what he thinks, but for me, this is a door that needs to be closed once and for all. I thought it was closed when he met and then married K. I thought it was closed after my last visit when we both started dating other people. But now I know that it needs to close, even if we continue to be friends, even if I stay single, even if my willpower is as bad as ever. I feel (and pardon me if this sounds way too “woo-woo”) that this openended physical thing, with my latent unresolved feelings, are preventing me somehow from meeting someone. Not in an active way, of course — I’m still getting out there and dating and keeping an open mind, and I genuinely feel like I want to meet someone — but just in the sense that the Universe (such as it is) won’t want to throw anyone my way just now because maybe I wouldn’t even know what to do with Mr. Right if he landed in my lap.

So, goodbye, C., once and for all — and hello, rest of my life….

In my last post I gave a little bit of a tease about New Guy, so I decided to shut the door on the subject once and for all by filling my dear readers in on what transpired.

I think I reported earlier that our last date (which was in mid March sometime…seems so long ago, and I was still in my trial fog) seemed a bit awkward, and things just felt a bit off. After that I didn’t hear from him for 3 weeks. Yes, 2 of those weeks he was in Europe, but still – after that prolonged silence I assumed that New Guy had died (you know, not literally, but in the sense of “he must have died, otherwise he would have called”).

Then, last Sunday, I got a surprising voice mail from him apologizing for being MIA, and I waffled back and forth between whether I wanted to say, “It’s too late and I don’t like you that much anyway” or whether I wanted to just go with the flow. As it turned out, I didn’t get a chance to do either because when I called him back, I got his voice mail, and then two days later I received an email (yes, not a phone call, but an email) saying “Got your message, I’m out of town all this week for work, I’ll call you this weekend.”

Um…okaaaay. Needless to say at this point I’m not exactly holding my breath. I was on my firm retreat having a jolly old time when I got his voice mail on Sat, and I called him back on Sunday afternoon. After a round of phone tag, we finally spoke on the phone for the 1st time in a month. After we got the annoying chit chat out of the way (“how was your trip?” “how was your trial?”) he said “So, the reason I wanted to make sure I talked to you is…..”

……

……I wanted to tell you I met someone else.”

These, dear readers, are words I have become particularly NOT fond of hearing.

He then proceeded to tell me that he wanted to “be fair” to me and not just disappear on me.

Okay, dear readers, let’s back up for a minute. First, let me say that I totally appreciate upfrontness and honesty. I really do. Enough guys have “died” on me, which always leaves the most frustrating sense of non-closure, that I have to give at least some props to anyone who can man up and be honest.

But, New Guy? I have to give you a tip. When you disappear for weeks, don’t bother reappearing to be “upfront”! It’s too late!

To add insult to injury, he then proceeded to say “Well, best of luck to you….are you still doing the Match thing?”

I know that the whole point of dating is to, you know — date multiple people…but I have a hard time doing that, especially when I’ve slept with someone. Don’t get me wrong, I have continued to look around online and email with various people, so though no real dates have emerged from that yet, I have been keeping my options open as best as possible. But when someone throws so blatantly back in my face that they have been dating around all along and that I should have been doing the same, it’s just — I don’t know — tacky?

Anyhoo, at the end of the day I’m not upset or even disappointed, because the warm fuzzies I had felt for him at first had given way on our last date. I think one of the biggest feelings I’m having is indignant that he beat me to the punch. If I were somewhat less mature, I would have just loved to, instead of saying, “Thanks for telling me, take care now!” say the following:

“New Guy, thanks for telling me, but don’t flatter yourself. Let’s face it — you have a high voice (such a mood killer), you work way too much to date anyone, and you’re totally selfish in bed. Best of luck to you and especially to the poor new Match girl you are dating now!!”

But of course, dear readers, SF is way more mature than that….

(Before I get to the meat of this post, side note: Why oh why do I suddenly get such pleasure from watching One Tree Hill, possibly in the top 5 worst non-reality prime time shows on TV? I haven’t seen the show in about 3 years and now they are doing flash forwards and flash backs and it’s just so addictive….)

Anyway, today my co-worker L. brought me a very blogworthy book. (In fact, she prefaced it this way: “Don’t be mad! It’s not because I think you NEED this, but I bought it for myself when I was single! And if nothing else it will be good for your blog!”) The book is called Why You’re Still Single: things your friends would tell you if you promised not to get mad.

Well, I haven’t gotten very far into the book yet — I’m on Part II, “You’re Just Not that Into Yourself” — but already I can tell it’s seriously a gem. I almost hate to admit how much I identify with the pitfalls the book describes: insecurity, desperation, and most of all, “Sure, ‘a good man is hard to find,’ but that statement ceases to mean anything when you add the corollary, ‘especially if you never leave your cats and your TiVo in your godforsaken apartment.’”

Wow. Guilty as charged. As I type, I am in yoga pants and my college sweatshirt, laptop on my lap, Project Runway on TV, and my cat Noodles at my side. (What, you mean to tell me that I’m unlikely to meet a man this way?? Pshaw.) The book goes on to say, “And you don’t have to be a hermit or couch potato to put up walls. Spend sixty hours a week at work? Hard to meet a guy there.” Ooh. So there’s the double whammy.

As I read this, I thought to myself, 1) “Wow, I really need to get out of the house more and DO things” and 2) “Why the hell do you think I’m internet dating, people??”

Then, only moments later, I received an email from a Match.com guy that contained the following (this was after he asked what kind of law I practice and I gave him a perhaps over-enthusiastic description): “Out of curiosity, do you have enough time to date? I imagine you’re working a minimum or 60hrs a week.”

Yikes. How is a girl supposed to answer that? The honest truth is, I don’t know. I mean, the last guy I dated was also a lawyer and he worked way more than me, so meeting up for late night dinner was not uncommon. But for non-lawyers, is my schedule unreasonable? Truth be told, up through my trial in March things ARE going to be rough. But I think if I want to make something work, it’d be doable.

I think.

Maybe.

I’ve been trying not to think about C., with moderate success, mostly because I am almost too damn busy at work to obsess. I’m in a pretty good spot as far as not feeling heartbroken, because I know that it’s for the best. The part that gets me is that it was so nice to just have that human connection–and I’m not just talking about the sex, but just the touch and the closeness, too–and now I’m back here and there’s just none of that on the horizon. Meanwhile, C. has at least one go-to booty call…but again, I shouldn’t think about that because it just makes me feel sort of ill.

Also, I had gotten used to us talking every day – online, on the phone, or texting. Now I can feel a definite shift. We still chat a bit, but it’s just different — like we both know that we won’t be seeing each other any time soon, and that nothing’s going to happen between us, so there’s no use.

Oh, and finally, to answer one of my readers’ questions: yes, as far as I can tell, C. and I are still going to Europe together. I figure by then things will have simmered down to nothing, since we probably won’t see each other before then, and then we’ll just be able to travel as friends. The only issue is that, because we’ll be doing the planning NOW, it will make it somewhat harder to put him out of my mind. But i don’t want to call off the trip–I don’t want to go on the trip solo (and I’m going regardless because my best friend M. is getting married), he has his heart set on it, and I know we’ll have fun together. Who knows – maybe I’ll even be dating someone by then, so the gray area of friends-with-benefits won’t even be there.

We can only hope ….

Yes, dear readers, the long-awaited weekend up in Oregon has come and gone and it’s time for a recap.

I don’t really know the best way to sum up the weekend. I guess I could say, parts of the weekend would have been romantic if it were a romantic situation. As it was, the weekend was at times relaxing, at times super fun, and at times emotionally tumultuous (at least, internally).

I flew into Eugene at about 1 pm on Friday and C. picked me up at the airport. It was a good, smooth flight and I was in a very upbeat mood. We got in the car and began our drive to the coast. It was a cold but sunny and gorgeous day, and we chatted away as farmland and forest whizzed past us. I felt this overwhelming feeling of calm and felt very very far away from my life and my everyday stress.

We stopped to have lunch at this small coast town about an hour from Eugene called Florence. We were the only people at the restaurant when we arrived and got a table by the window with a view of the water. We shared a bottle of wine and had chowder and fish and chips, then browsed at my favorite candy/taffy/gift shop in Florence before we got back on the road.

Once we got to Yachats — pronounced Yaw-hots, or as C. likes to call it, “the ‘Chats” (pronounced “the Hots” — I can’t even type it without giggling), we made our rounds to pick up food & drink. We bought four bottles of wine, some salmon and sangria ingredients. When we got to the house, it was almost sunset so we quickly opened a bottle of wine, poured ourselves each a glass and rushed out just in time to watch the sun set over the water. During the sunset, C. put his arm around me and kissed me for the first time that day.

We headed back to the house, where instead of cooking the salmon as we had planned, we decided to start with the sangria. I don’t know if you’ve gathered this from my other posts, dear readers, but SF is a bit of a lightweight. I had two cups of sangria and wow, the sangria kicked my butt. Anyway, it was only about 8 pm when we ended up drunk and in the bedroom. I’ll spare you all the gory details, but let’s just say that the bedroom part of the trip certainly did not disappoint.

Of course, not content to leave things be, I somehow brought up yet another DTR and the convo went something like this:
SF: I have feelings for you, I can’t help it.
C.: I’m sorry, I can’t reciprocate your feelings.

Not my finest moment, and not the highlight of the weekend. But more about that later.

Anyway, despite what it sounds like, that convo didn’t kill the night. There was more wine, more fun, some movie watching.

But the next day, all the good and the bad of that night caught up with me. I woke up feeling hungover in only the way that red wine can accomplish, and also emotionally hungover and feeling embarrassed/upset about the previous night’s conversation. We spent a good part of the morning just laying in bed snuggling (and then some) and then relocated to the couch and watched movies pretty much all day. It was raining outside and it was actually quite refreshing to have nowhere to be, nothing to do. In the late afternoon his parents arrived, C. and I played Scrabble then went out to dinner and watched another movie then he fell asleep on the couch and I retired to my own room. But all day this icky feeling from the prior night just wouldn’t go away.

That night I snuck into C.’s room when I woke up in the middle of the night … very fun.

The next morning, C. got up and cooked us all bacon & eggs. Then he and I headed back to Eugene. It had been snowing and the drive was like a winter wonderland — all foresty and blanketed in white. It was absolutely beautiful and we were both in good spirits. We had lunch at the airport cafe, and then we said goodbye. He hugged me, gave me a kiss and a soulful look (like only he can do) and walked out to his car.

I then had several hours to stay in the airport where my flight was delayed. I wanted nothing more than to be home at this point. I was physically and emotionally exhausted, and I felt a bit like a string that was close to snapping. They were threatening to cancel the flight, and for an hour or two I sat there, anxious over my two choices – 1) making C. pick me up at the airport and bring me back to his apartment when all I wanted was to put some space between us and clear my head, or 2) calling my parents and confessing to them that I had been in & around town all weekend and hadn’t told them, much less seen them. Um…not ideal. Luckily my flight finally took off and I got my bleary-eyed self back to my apartment at about 12:30 a.m.

So, positive things: I got to relax some, I got some long anticipated nooky, I got to see a beautiful beach sunset and snowy forest, I had some great (but deadly) sangria, I got to enjoy C.’s company.

Not-so-positive things: for better or for worse, I am a quintessential girl about all things related to the opposite sex, and I shed tears more than once over the past 48 hours (once in the airport bathroom – in hindsight I blame extreme tiredness and, I realize now, PMS – a lethal combo). But as today has gone on, clearer heads have prevailed. I realize that I have been projecting all sorts of expectations and hopes and desires onto C. But here’s the thing: he’s not the love of my life. He’s not even the same guy that was my high school sweetheart. He’s — well, a guy. Sure, he’s a guy I have history with. He’s a guy I seem to have amazing chemistry with — 10 years ago and now. He’s a guy who knows me, who I am comfortable with, who gets me. But this doesn’t mean that he’s my future.

It’s weird how we’ve fallen into a little pattern over the past month. We text each other random thoughts, we chat online during the day. We had been endlessly discussing this trip. But now that this trip has come and gone, that both of us know where we stand, and that there is no plan to see each other in the near future, it seems to have lost its urgency. I can talk to him, and we’re friends, but I know we won’t be more than that.

It’s funny – for Christmas I bought C. the book Eat Pray Love and he has been reading it and loving it. He joked last week that he thought he’d write his own male version and asked me what I wanted my name to be in the memoir. When I asked him, “I’d be in your memoir?” he said that yes, since everything that fell apart in his marriage over the last 2 months, what happened between us would be a good starting point. I commented, “yes, it has the elements of a good story.” C. agreed, “And there are still plenty of chances to screw things up or make it better, just like any good story.”

But as it turns out, this great-story-in-the-making, in reality …

Maybe not so much.

I was beginning to get pretty excited about my upcoming weekend on the Oregon coast with C. We’d talked about what we wanted to cook (salmon) drink (he said he had a good Pinot Grigio) and watch (he spent a good amount of time trying to convince me of the merits of Must Love Dogs). I’m arriving very late on Friday night, so even though I promised that I’d rally for a late night on Friday, I knew that Saturday would be our real chance for quality time.

Then….inevitably, a wrench was thrown into our plans. I got a call from C. on Friday when I was en route to San Diego, and he said “Ummmmm….I have some unfortunate news. Not fatal, but just a…change of plans.”

As it turns out, unbeknownst to C. until two days ago, C.’s parents will also be at the beach house next weekend. C.’s dad is on the board of the HOA, and they have a late afternoon meeting on Saturday. Apparently C. convinced his parents to come out Sat afternoon instead of Friday, but still. They will be there.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Don’t get me wrong. I love C.’s parents. And of course I can’t begrudge them coming out for the weekend — after all, it’s their house! But this whole situation is quite embarrassing to me, to say the least. First, C. had to confess to his parents that I would be there. He explained it quite well — that I was complaining to him that my pre-trial hell would soon be beginning and I wanted to get away for the weekend and he invited me up. (All true, by the way.) But then he had to tell his parents not to tell my parents.

His parents were, apparently, totally cool about the whole thing. According to C., his mom had an undertone of being stoked that I was going to be there. And — get this! — his parents were apologetic about interrupting our plans and offered to pay for us to stay in a nearby hotel! (C. and I agreed that this would make us feel incredibly creepy, so we declined, and we’ll all be staying at the house on Sat night.) But essentially, his parents weren’t born yesterday, so they must be totally onto us. How humiliating–I feel like an uber-slut who’s flying 1000 miles to sleep with their not-yet-divorced son, and now I have to try not to be incredibly awkward.

C. was also apologetic and kept reassuring me that it will be totally fun anyway, and that when they get there, we can go to the beach, and that there’s a sushi restaurant he wanted to take me to anyway. I’m sure we’ll still have fun…it will just make me feel like I’m still in high school (as though our Christmas escapade didn’t already give me that feeling!). Us sleeping in separate rooms with his parents there…. oy. I guess I can mentally unpack all that sexy lingerie that I was mentally packing, and throw in my flannel PJ pants instead.

Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me, loud and clear, what I already know – that I need to put C. back in the friend box. Despite myself, I’ve become very irrational, including feeling jealous re the other girl I know he’s hooking up with. He’d told me about this girl, who’s a legal assistant at his office, before we ever hooked up over Christmas, and described it as just a physical thing and that he was planning to end it. Then recently on Facebook (which people like me should not be allowed to use) I saw a picture of him & her at a party and her arms were around him. I didn’t know who it was but then I put 2 and 2 together based on something he said. Apparently he hung out with her & others on Friday night. I think about him with her and it just gets under my skin even though I know it shouldn’t. Grrrrrr.

There’s this line from High Fidelity (one of my all time faves that I watched again the other day) that really describes what I feel for C.: “I miss her smell .. and the way she tastes. It’s a mystery of human chemistry and I don’t understand it … some people as far as your senses are concerned, just feel like home.” When he and I were kissing over Christmas, C. said to me, “I forgot the way you taste.” And I felt the same way, like “Oh, I remember what this is like.” But even more than the physical familiarity, I felt like my whole being just sort of relaxed when I was around him, like I returned to a version of myself that I had forgotten about. But I digress….

I have been trying to decide whether to renew my match.com and chemistry.com memberships, and I think I should. Despite the fact that this round of online dating has been a resounding failure (now we are up to 5 for 5 guys who’ve disappeared after our date), and the fact that online dating is often so painful that I’d sooner stab out my own eye with a hot poker, I feel like I still need to be trying…to give me a distraction, to not be “putting my eggs in the C. basket” (as my friend T. would say), and to keep the tiny inkling of hope alive that, maybe, there are still nice, normal, unmarried men out there. I haven’t met any of these alleged men, but they must exist….right?

Ways I know I’m getting old: my workload is lighter this week and I comment to my friend T. that tonight, I just can’t wait to get home and get in my PJs. She says back, “Me too! Wow, we’re so cool. We live in the heart of WeHo and we get excited about staying at home in our pajamas.”

Ways I know I’m really old: I’m not even shamed by this conversation into trying to leave the house. Instead, I am currently in my old college sweatshirt, my flannel PJ pants with monkeys in Santa hats, glasses and a scrunchy, having finished my Thai food leftovers, half-watching Entourage. That’s hot. And, dear readers, I’m happy as a clam.

Against every instinct, I have forced myself to begin the online dating again. There was a cute guy I emailed with before the holidays, he asked me to coffee but I was too busy right before Christmas and I asked for a rain check. I was supposed to call him right after Christmas but I was distracted by the C. situation and work and, well…a couple of weeks went by. I didn’t know if it was too late to email him and I didn’t even know if I wanted to email him. But, my friends’ voices in my head, I decided to buck up, and now we have a coffee date for Thursday.

I’d be lying if I said I was excited, but I know it’ll be good for me. Sort of like taking my vitamins, except I don’t do that. T., ever the optimist, thinks that my “meh” attitude will be good for me because “guys like a girl who’s hard to get.” We’ll see.

Okay, I’ve been holding out on you. I wasn’t going to tell anyone about this, because it is probably the most foolish thing I’ve done in recent memory, but I can’t not write about it. Even though I am waiting for the cyber yelling from my friends.

I’ll just come out and say it … I’m flying up to see C. next weekend.

No, nothing has changed since I last reported. Yes, this will be nothing more than an expensive booty call. Yes, I know we are not going to be in a relationship. Yes, I know that my initial reaction was “If he thinks I’m flying up there for a booty call, he has another think coming.”

And yet…

So here’s how it happened. Apparently during our drunken DTR, he had invited me to come up to Portland for a pub crawl next weekend. We discussed it soberly the next day and I concluded that there were definitely better ways to spend my time and money than hanging out with C. and his drunk friends and sleeping on C.’s friends’ couch.

Then yesterday I began looking at my work schedule, which will be truly, truly hellish beginning in 2 to 3 weeks. I began thinking that perhaps it was time for a little fun & spontaneity before I was trapped in LA for the next few months with no chance to have weekends to myself.

Of course, at the same time C. and I were chatting. As it turned out, the pub crawl is not to be, since two of C.’s friends who were going to host are taking the bar in February. But C. offered that even so, I could come up that weekend. I don’t really know what came over me, but one minute he was telling me that he could pick me up at the airport and we could spend the weekend at the house his family owns on the Oregon Coast cooking and drinking wine, and the next moment I had booked my tickets and was emailing him my itinerary.

I have a couple of theories about how this transpired:
1) As my friend K. suggested, I am perhaps subconsciously risking future unhappiness for some current fun since I have had felt blah lately.
2) Let’s face it – a girl’s got needs. C. and I have been having rather suggestive conversations, and I’m not going to lie…the fact that I’m going to have almost-guaranteed sex in a week is more than a little exciting.

I’m sure others would say that I’m deluding myself, that really I’m hoping that C. will change his mind and fall madly in love with me. But really, what he told me on the phone was crystal clear. It’s like a page straight from “He’s Just not that Into You.”

Also, I think this will help me gauge how well I’d be able to handle a trip to Europe with C., since we would probably be booking our tickets in the next month or so.

Ok, let’s face it. I know this is a crazy thing I’m doing. I’m not even telling my parents (though I’m feeling super guilty about hiding this from them) since they’d have a heart attack. But I’m going to treat it as a fun getaway and a good weekend — period.

What’s the worst that can happen?

On second thought, no – don’t answer that.

Picking up where the last blog left off … here is the latest installment on my love life (such as it is). I wrote the “PG” version of this story in my other, self-censored blog but I’m going to give a recap here because you, dear readers, need all the back story in order to be able to fully understand the situation.

This story involves my high school sweetheart, C. He and I first met at summer camp when we were about 13 or 14. We were friends, and I found out at the very end of the summer that he had a crush on me. He and I stayed in touch for a while and then lost contact. During the fall/winter of my senior year of high school, his junior year, we ran into each other again at a play at his school and there was a spark. We exchanged numbers, went out for coffee, and the rest is history. We dated all the way until August, when I went off to college. He was entering his senior year of high school, I was starting school in Southern California, and it just made sense for us to split up. Logically, anyway. I wanted nothing more in the world than for us to stay together. There were a lot of tears on my part, both before I left and in the first few months I was at college.

But, time goes on, wounds heal, and we stayed friends but that was all. C. ended up coming down to attend the same group of colleges that I was at to play football, so we got to know each others’ friends a bit, but we dated other people and in his sophomore year he met K. They dated, lived together, got engaged and eventually married a year-and-a-half ago. I attended the wedding, and it was gorgeous, and they seemed, as they always had, incredibly happy and in love. In fact, that was at the same time that my relationship with my then-fiance was beginning to unravel. I looked at C. and K. and knew in my heart of hearts that I didn’t feel that way about my fiance and that I couldn’t go through with the wedding…though I didn’t call it off for another couple of months.

The one strange thing about C. and K.’s relationship is that they have done the long distance thing for the past 3 1/2 years. C. has been in grad school in Oregon and K. apparently had a fantastic job that she couldn’t leave in California. So they flew back and forth to see each other. I thought it seemed like an impossible relationship, but they appeared to be making it work.

Then, on my way to the airport last week, when I was flying up to see my parents for Christmas, I called C. to see if he and K. were going to be up there for the holidays so that we could meet up. He sounded strange on the phone, and then I asked what he was going to be doing after he graduated from grad school in the spring – was he moving to California? He said slowly, “Well….it looks like I’ll be staying up here actually.” “What about K.?” I asked in surprise. “Exactly,” he replied. Oh boy. I decided to wait for in-person to get the scoop, and I just told him that I was really sorry to hear that.

On Saturday night, C. and I met up at a cute bar near his downtown apartment. There, I got the whole story. Apparently over Thanksgiving, she told him that she never wanted to get engaged and she never wanted to get married. He and K. had separated and hadn’t talked since. He was wearing his wedding ring on his right hand and looked, as you might imagine, dejected. My heart sank. C. was such an important person in my life, and I could only imagine how badly this must be hurting him, and there was nothing I could do or say. But he talked, and I listened, and I felt good that I could be there for him.

I wished more than anything else that I could just snap my fingers or say a magic word and make it all better…bring K. back to her senses, make her mend their relationship. It made, and makes, no sense to me that she could possibly have never wanted to marry him. She seemed so happy — is anyone that good of an actress? And after so many years of long distance, now they were thisclose to being able to finally live together. i just couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

Still, at the same time that I was feeling so bad for him and wishing that things could be different for him, my old feelings for him were beginning to resurface. Now, please believe me when I say that I have not been carrying a torch for C. for the past 10 years. But something began to stir in my heart that I haven’t felt since…well, who knows when. We moved on to a second bar, then a third bar (which was a converted coffee house that, incidentally, had been the location of our first date.) We were sitting side by side at the bar, and somehow we began to hold hands. He just sat and touched my hands and gazed at me and told me how soft my hands were. I felt both incredibly comfortable and sort of nervous, but he didn’t flinch at all, he just sat and looked at me.

After that, we decided to just head back to his nearby apartment and hang out there. Call me naive, but even at this point I still wasn’t convinced that anything was going to happen. We sat on the couch, he put some music on his iPod, he looked at me, I looked at him, we inched ever closer on the couch, and then we were kissing. And it was as though no time had passed, and it felt just as good as it did 10 years ago when we used to spend hours kissing. Eventually he took me by the hand and led me upstairs and…the rest is history. Mind you, we had never slept together in high school — not even close — so this was totally uncharted territory. But it was great. He was so sweet with me and cooed over how good I looked and it was just so…good.

I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder and his arms around me, and kept waking up throughout the night. When I finally woks up and it was morning and I could see him stirring awake, I was overwhelmed by the feeling of Oh, shit. What if he thinks this was all a huge mistake and it’s really awkward? But instead he put his arms around me and pulled me in close, smiled at me and started kissing me again. Whew!

Our snuggly morning was interrupted by a call on my cell phone from my mother, exclaiming, “Where the hell have you been? We thought you’d been killed and were lying in the gutter somewhere!” So C and I got up and he drove me home. (I told Mom & Dad that I slept on C.’s couch. How old am I, again?)

I was a huge mix of emotions. This was so wonderful but so confusing. C. and I ended up hanging out on Christmas Eve night and Christmas night also, but at his parents’ house then my parents’ house, so nothing more happened aside from a few sweet kisses goodnight. And we never talked about what happened, beyond a vague discussion like “No matter what happens, I’m so lucky to have you as a friend…” etc. Since I came back to L.A., he and I have talked almost every day – either on the phone or online, but nothing resembling a DTR.

Oh – I forgot to mention that on the first night, at the bar I had been telling him that my friend M. is getting married in July or Aug in England, and that I am going there then probably to Paris, and I told him he should come with me because he will have just taken the bar. On Christmas he brought it up again and told me places he’d like us to go, and now we have begun planning!

But….what does all this mean? For now, for my heart and my sanity, I feel like I need to assume that what happened between us was a fun night between friends, period. C. is obviously in an incredibly hard place and will be experiencing a rollercoaster of emotions over the next several months. Even aside from that, we live in different cities. Everything that happened between us over Christmas felt so organic, but it can’t actually be that way.

Then again, I know myself and, once someone works their way into my head and my heart, it is incredibly difficult to get him out. And congratulations, C., you have worked your way right in. Especially since we are still talking all the time and planning this trip together.

So even though I know, I really do, that I need to be careful and tread lightly and not expect anything…much easier said than done. I keep thinking that each relationship I have teaches me something and helps me grow up and that I won’t keep making the same mistakes. But then, every time, something happens that throws me for a loop.

2008….another year older and, it seems, none the wiser…