What's Your Favorite...

I'd forgotten that there can be this awkward period of "getting to know you" when you make new friends. Especially if you both know there's a possibility that you might be more than friends-- and neither one of you is really sure you're ready for that. I also hadn't realized that the questions I'd have asked in high school might not be quite so appropriate now...

Questions like: What's your favorite color? and Who's your favorite actor? and Which do you prefer-- boxers or briefs? (well, okay, that was college)... Umm...

It's actually a funny thing-- talking on the telephone, trying to find mutual topics of conversation, not sure of each other's verbal patterns so you end up starting to respond before he stops talking-- often enough to feel foolish about it. Some people are just easier to talk with in person, and with others... an hour or two might go by unnoticed while your relationship blooms via the technology that links you. It's a hit-or-miss sort of thing.

The good news is that I've discovered I no longer hold a grudge against everyone who shares the same interests, career, or bone structure as my Ex. I'm really fine with military guys (though that last one was a bit of a flake), and it's okay if you play the occasional video game (just don't play so much that you have to stop yourself from going into the nearest jewelry store because your "supply of pearls is low"). I can even handle men with a predilection for ... well, never mind that one. It's just good to know that I'm (generally speaking, since I'm not perfect) going into any future dating relationships with no preconceived judgments or expectations. It really IS going to be about how things go between me and the man I'm talking to. The ghosts are finally fading away. YAYYYY!!!

So... No Shight, there we were. Having a conversation about cats. His cats. His two female black cats who sound really fun, and have their own playground that has taken over most of the living room floor, and includes several army-issue ponchos because the material actually sheds cat fur. His cats that he picked out of a litter of kittens, and one of whom he has named Morgan, after Morgan le Fae from Arthurian Legends. How F-ing COOL is THAT?!

The things we talked about HINT at awesome things that didn't quite reach the surface. And I'm hooked. I want to find out if those hints are fool's gold or something more precious. And I want to be respectful. But it takes getting to know someone to really understand what "respectful" looks like to them. And I don't know him very well yet. So I'm guessing. I told myself very firmly-- months ago now-- that if I ever DID date somebody ever again, I would NOT play the whole "how long am I supposed to wait before I call back?!" guessing game. No. And now, here I am. Wondering if I can call and tell him about my weekend on Sunday, or if I should wait until later in the week-- give him a chance to call me again. ...and I'm not sure there's any way to avoid hazarding a few guesses. For instance, I guess I should probably stop editing this blog post, and get some sleep.

I can tell right now that I need to create a new label for all the posts that are going to show up about dating, now that I'm actually out there trying to participate in it.

And-- Hey!-- How the hell do you know if a guy is the right age for you anymore?! It was easy when we were all in school together-- either he was in your classes or he wasn't. But now? ...Umm...

While the whole age-range of datability has expanded as I've grown up (at twelve, dating a guy two years older was like REALLY BOLD-- I mean, he's OLD!!!), and I've discovered that I'm now okay with someone ten years older than me, I think, until proven otherwise, on a case-by-case basis, maybe... TWENTY YEARS IS PUSHING IT. But that's me. And if I run into a couple with a greater range in age than what I would accept for myself, I try to make my judgement based on whether there is respect, appreciation, maturity and enjoyment from each person for the other or not-- because those are the only things I know for a fact should exist in every relationship regardless.

Okay. That was a seriously run-on sentence. But it's a valid question. The older we get, the harder it is for me to guess how old we are. And can I just tell you that I was accused of being petite and blonde over the phone today? By a very nice woman who lives in Georgia. She's never seen me before, but I just SOUNDED like a blonde to her. Along these same lines, a friend once shocked me to my toes by telling me that he would describe me as "perky." ME?? ReALLY?? But... I'm so BORING! ... and he gave me that "what planet does your mirror live on, really??" look, so I guess it's true. Me. Perky.

...And I'd forgotten about it, and gone back to thinking of myself as boring and not anything like those fun cheerful bouncy cheerleader types... I mean, really. I'm a librarian, man. ...Until I talked with this woman from Georgia. And then the man with the cats called. I found myself trying not to say "like" quite so often, and not being quite as ...uhh... twinkly and random?... in my responses to his conversation. I didn't want to come across as "young" or "immature" or ... "blonde" somehow... And when I realized what I was doing, I had to laugh at myself. Either he'll like me or he won't. And either I'll like him or I won't.

But pretending to anybody that I don't stand on one foot and sing Christmas carols to myself when I wash dishes is just silly. Because all you have to do is walk into the kitchen while I'm doing dishes, and you realize that this is EXACTLY what I do, people. HONESTLY. And, just as with the whole "perky" thing, I didn't even know I did that until one day my mom came home from work early, walked into the kitchen, and burst out laughing to the point of actual tears.
...sigh...

I don't think I have this hangup in person, however (the one about trying to appear mature), so I'm going to cross my fingers and hope that the next time CatMan calls, he'll be calling to invite me to do something face-to-face. And maybe, if he's nice, I'll even sing him a Christmas carol or two. Like.