A Nice Dilemma . . .

My narcissism has, once again, bitten me in the heinie. Whose brilliant idea was it to give the address of this blog to anyone, anyway? Now I have all kinds of things to say about the very nice date I had tonight, but find myself editing with the knowledge that he's probably going to read this at his first opportunity. Fortunately, I think I have braced him for the fact that I am in the habit of saying what I think, so here goes:

Two things worried me, as the time for the date approached. Firstly, I was self-conscious about my attraction to Robert (who will also probably read this. Oh well). I was worried that I wouldn't like Jeff, and subconsciously try to upstage him in some immature fashion. What a relief to find that Jeff is not only charming and handsome, but that they have a delightful chemistry together. Anxietey solved.

Secondly, I was worried that Jason would turn out to be bitter, boring, or unattractive. As I saw him approach from the parking lot, though, I was instantly at ease. He is a beautiful man, tall, angular, and slightly dorky (some of my favorite traits, as devoted readers may know). Second anxiety solved. As it turns out, the one thing about which I might have been justifiably anxious, I never foresaw.

I had forgotten how bad I am at dating. To begin with, I selected an entirely uncomfortable venue for a first date: a John Waters lecture. As the jokes advanced menacingly on the envelope of good taste, ultimately setting fire to it and pissing on the ashes, I grew increasingly scared that Jason didn't seem to find them quite so hilarious as I did. It was painfully obvious that every chuckle was an effort, and I couldn't keep from berating myself for a stupid choice. As if that were not enough, my good sense stepped out for a moment, and when he opened the floor to questions, I leapt from my seat in the back row and intoned with full resonance, "Will you sign my prosthesis?" Oh, the horror my poor date must have felt! I could practically feel him erasing my phone number from his mind. FYI, Waters was delighted to sign Peggy.

To add jet fuel to the disaster, as we went out afterward for ein schmekte mir trinken und essen, I was in full ADD mode from the thrill of having had such an interesting and indelible (in Sharpie!) experience. Consequently, having dinner with me was, I am sure, the equivalent of having dinner with three 7-year olds and a rabid macaque. I was leaking endorphins from the ears, and fortunately declined any caffeine, else I might have been found flailing Peggy over my head and singing "Vittoria, Vittoria!" Surely, I should have been put to sleep before I ruined anyone else's evening with my silliness.

As I was preparing to leave Jason at his car, I decided, instead of playing the stupid, "Should I kiss him? Should I make a move? What if he just wants to leave?" game, to simply say, "It's been a long time since I've had a kiss." To my delight, I got what I asked for. In fact, it was difficult to stop. I am actually raw around the mouth from such wonderful stubbly affection.

Here is the part of the cycle where I customarily second guess a great experience. What if I moved to fast? What if I'm not ready to fall for such a great guy?

what if he thinks my stump is gross?