R-O-L-A-I-D-S

Relief. 

Priceless.

I talked to the guy that left the other night when we were still eating dinner.  I may have misconstrued his actions to mean more than they did.  He says was tired - not terrified.  But I was still mortified at the time.

Timing is everything.  Along with kindness, consideration, respect, confidence, trust and beer, of course.  And it seems that given his timing, I may have taken his behavior to mean that he had taken my words to heart and completely panicked.

Dating is a funny thing.  And by funny, I mean that it sucks and hurts and scares the bejeezus out of me.  And I love it.  I love the uncertainty.  I love the heartbreaks and high points.  I love the thrill, the opportunity, the self-love that it fosters.  Because, if you don't love you in spite of the discomfort that is bound to come when you put your name in the hat, you can never love another person in a satisfying manner.  And if you can't love them (and by that I mean you), how on earth can they love you (and by that I mean them) back?

When I thought he didn't like me anymore, I shook off the rejection and chose to revel in how wonderful I think I am, and how amazing my friends that I think are amazing say I am.  And, sometimes, liking yourself more than anyone else does is just what the doctor ordered.  There's nothing narcissistic in being okay with yourself no matter how foolish you may feel, and giving yourself a mental hug every now and again is good for the soul.

Sometimes in my lucid dreams, I find myself running from things I can't put my finger on in a lucent state; I just recall my need to escape and the knowledge that I am in control.  I am generally successful in barely eluding my lifelong captor, who, oddly enough, happens to be me.  That running-running-running that has haunted my subconscious existence often segues into reality.  So it goes with dating.  I expect the unexpected, the gratifying and the disappointing all rolled into one tall glass of water.  And, boy, am I thirsty!

With experience comes wariness.  With trusting comes doubt.  With love it often seems there is a dose of hate from some wound in the past waiting to ruin everything good.  And when one shoe drops, I inevitably wait for the second reassuring thud that never ceases to reinforce that I was meant to fail; that it is my destiny.

Tonight, however, I'm just thankful that despite all of dating's complications and calamities, I haven't become bitter or jaded.  Because that would totally suck.  And I might unintentionally make a mountain out of a molehill.

"What?  Me worry?" 

Yes.  But just this one time.