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The Dating Game: Round One and Round Two

May 5, 2014

I made it through a dinner date with Round One without ending up with sex hair. I’m sort of proud of myself. You are a sad, pathetic slut, Twig. Shut up. I know.

Laying in bed on Saturday night after a rather intense hayroll and way too much wine, he said, “I know we said we’d take it slow, and I know we’ve only just met, but the truth of it is that I really like you, Twig. Even if we aren’t throwing around terms like “boyfriend” or “exclusive,” it doesn’t change how I feel, doesn’t change that we sort of are in a relationship. That’s how it feels to me.”

I sighed happily and smiled without lifting my head from his shoulder. I squeezed his hand that I was holding. “I feel the same way, completely.”

So I suppose I should feel sort of shitty that I still proceeded to meet Round Two for coffee later the next morning. But I don’t, though I expect this will blow up in my face as badly as things did with MTIA and TLTL if I proceed like this, the former of which decided to haunt my dreams again last night. I’m trying hard not to dwell on that, though.

I feel like I’m settling if I decide to date Round One exclusively. I shouldn’t, but I do. He’s got a good, stable job with benefits and room for advancement which he’s actively seeking. He’s got a delightfully naughty side, and he plays video games. He can cook. He enjoys working out. He likes shopping. He eats healthy food. So what the hell is my problem?

On Saturday, we ended up back at my place, where he discovered that I’ve been sitting on a metaphorical goldmine of Playstation games that I didn’t even realize I had. “Twig, are you kidding me? You have a first run, perfect condition of Final Fantasty VI?!”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. I think someone gave those to me. Why?”

He stared at me. “Do you know what this is worth? OMG. Can I play it???” He was like a little kid in a candy store. So I watched him play for a couple hours, eventually falling asleep beside him on the couch. He poked me in the ribs somewhere around 3am. “You asleep, Twig?”

I opened an eye. “Who, me? Nah…”

“Do you want to go bed?”

“Yeah, we probably should.” Yeah, right. I ought to learn that trying to sleep next to him is absolutely impossible unless there’s an orgasm involved. That’s my hypothesis, at least, for the moment.

Yeah, we’re in a relationship. I mean, not officially, but close enough. Of course, now that I’ve said this, and now that I’ve decided I do want a relationship with him, it’s going to fall apart in front of me, and I’ll just watch, wondering what the hell I did wrong this time.

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