Last Chance for Valentine's Reservations

I'm dealing with drama at work, but took a second to check my personal email. The most recent item in my inbox is from OpenTable.com, with the subject line "Last Chance for Valentine's Reservations." I actually got a little bummed because, well, I don't have to worry about it. I realized that I haven't had to worry about a V-Day date since I was in 6th Grade and had just asked JW if she'd "go out with me." Apparently asking someone to "go out" with you meant that you were officially dating.

I confuse myself. I've been turned off by the idea of having a boyfriend because I don't want to feel strapped down. The only sort of relationship I could imagine having would be an "open" one. I just think that I'd get bored with the same guy day after day, night after night. But I fear that that way of thinking won't lead to a successful relationship and is a bit depressing. I'm sure I've written about this in the past (can't find which post, and don't really want to look)...but today's email from OpenTable made me think of it again...perhaps more seriously.

OK...now I'm going to get deep...and I'll try to keep it as short as possible. It's a story about a guy I met this summer that I felt more for than anyone in the past. It made me believe that there was I possessed perhaps the slightest possibility of walking into a potential relationship with a bit of optimism about being capable of monogamy. If you want to hear about my boning the fuck out of a hot piece of ass, then blowing a huge load all over his face or down his throat...then wait for my next post. This one will be an utter disappointment.


This summer, I met a guy at the beach who swept me off my feet. I know, it sounds so disgustingly sugary, but it's true. This had never happened before, so I didn't know what was going on, other than I was more enthusiastic and excited about this guy than I've ever been about anyone before. We spent that entire night together, but didn't have sex, just chilled, talked and made-out. It was unique for me, and amazing. We met up and hung out the next day on the beach swimming and laughing. I was becoming more and more smitten by the minute.

Later that day, at dinner with my friends, I talked about him, and immediately everyone at the table said "stay away, he's a prick." I didn't see it, but of course, friends know best.


We went out later that week, and had a great time. The only "playing" that went on was some making out after dinner. We scheduled our second date for the following week. Again, we had a fantastic time. Unfortunately that second date (in mid-July) was the last time we "saw" each other. He just sort of vanished. Several weeks later, over Labor Day weekend, I bumped into him at the beach. He was high and told me I looked "beautiful." As much as I wanted to jump his bones and spend another night with him on the beach, I restrained myself, said "thanks," rolled my eyes, and continued talking with my friends.

Up until last week, I hadn't seen him once, nor have I stopped thinking about him, really. I was late meeting friends, and passed him on the street. I decided to stop and have a short bullshit chat, after which I was on my way. I didn't really feel anything, which made me happy, but also confused. I immediately called a few friends who've listened to me kvetch over the past several months, and told them how I'd just seen him, and that I didn't get all worked up. I was proud of myself.

However, at dinner, I couldn't stop thinking about him. There's some psycho term that relates to suppressing feelings through denial which then eventually resurfaces and can be much more painful than if you'd initially dealt with them (I understand that many people experience this from abuse they suffered as kids). I still haven't crashed, and really don't think I will.


The next day, I sent a short email saying it was nice to see him, and explained that I was late to a dinner, thus my rushing off. He didn't respond. Surprisingly, I sort of forgot about the email, which also made me think I was getting over him/it. In the past, I would've checked my Blackberry every minute, waiting for a reply, but I didn't. Who knows if I'm really over him, or not, but it seems like I'm getting closer and closer to that point.

Valentine's Day reminds all of the single people in the world that we ARE single. Are we truly happy to be single? If so, why?