D. update

D. called a few nights ago to catch up. He says he misses me. I asked him to define what, exactly, he misses.

"Aren't I the lawyer?" he aked.

"But I'm the girl," I responded.

He says he misses arguing with me about culinary issues. He misses my laugh. He misses the comfort of sitting on my couch, just talking. He misses going places with me and showing me off as his date. He misses being around me. He misses being my friend.

"You know, most of those things are more than just aspects of our friendship."

"I realize that."

"This isn't going to work. You can't call me anymore."

"I understand your point of view and validate your opinion, but I disagree. This can work."

"No, it can't. You are incapable of being just friends. Each time you laugh at my jokes, I won't know if it was as a friend or as a lover. Each time you look at me, I won't be able to tell the motivation behind the tenderness in your eyes. And when you're nice to me, or even when you're being an ass and arguing, I'm not sure if you're trying to flirt or just being yourself."

A long, pregnant pause occurred.

"I guess you're somewhat right."

We decided to give it a few months and then reconnect. Then he hung up.

feeling better!

Tuesdays are usually my favorite day; for some reason, Tuesdays are lighter on appointments and deadlines than any other day of the week.

I'm feeling much better today.

R.'s lease is out at the end of the month. This afternoon, I went with him as he signed a new lease at a place very close to my own. It's darling: lots of original 1930s detailing, an open floor plan, tons of square feet.I'm very happy with this development!

Hmm... it looks like it's been a while since I posted about a dating story... will get on that shortly...

I feel like crap

Thursday was the culmination event of months of hard sweat and labor, after which I fell ill. Very ill.

Of course.

And it was R.'s birthday this weekend.

Poor guy was super sweet and kept a constant supply of tea, Mucinex D, and chicken soup on my bed side table, and spoiled Gus with lots of walks and play time at the park.

A gal at work has viral meningitis. If I'm not better tomorrow, I'm going to the doctor's.

Last night at dinner with two of my closest girlfriends, A. turned to me quite suddenly and proclaimed that I must not like R. that much, seeing as I don't gush about him the way I did the Dentist.

I guess I don't gush that much about him... I don't want to jinx things!!!

And I guess part of me is worried that if it doesn't work, I don't want to be the girl who cried "<3 Forever!!"

But all I want to do is talk about how great he is. I've been with enough men to know what it's like to be treated poorly and treated well, and R. is the absolute best.

Update on the Status of Things with R.

Things are going so well, I couldn't be happier. He's everything I've been looking for, and I'm excited to see where things are going!

But a funny thing keeps happening... each time we take a small step, a dude I've dated resurfaces.

The day we shared our deepest insecurities, a dude I asked out who said no called and asked me out.

The first night he stayed over, two men I dated sent me emails asking me how I was doing.

The day I missed work and he took care of me, a guy from down the street I went out with once sent me a text.

And here's what I have to say to that: okay God, I get it. These are tests. But I'm not going to fall for them. I'm with R. now, and that's that!

Roy

My best friend owns a bar, and I own the seat around the corner from the taps. It's my seat, and she's been more than happy to remind someone of that fact should it be occupied when I arrive.

One afternoon I was grumpy after a craptastic day at work. The usual.

She poured me a double and we talked shop while she cut the limes for that evening's margaritas. Before I could finish my drink, she had another in front of me.

"On the house," she said.

"Funny, I thought they always were."

"Point."

She walked away to deal with a minor infraction involving a glass window pane and a gentleman's fist and I found myself with a new neighbor at the bar.

"I'm Roy, and I'm going to buy you that drink," he said.

"It's okay. I'm a big girl. I can afford my own drinks."

"Then let me buy you dinner. The burgers are fantastic."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, my buddy owns this place. We go way back."

My best friend came back and I mouthed "play along." She nodded.

"Barkeep," Roy said. "Sweet cheeks, can we get some menus?"

"Here, hot stuff," she said to him while giving me a wink.

"And sweet thing, before you leave, can you tell Karl that I'm here?"

"Karl?" she asked, cocking her head just slightly and narrowing her eyes. "Who's that?"

"The one that signs your paychecks, doll." He looked at me like he was really in the know.

"Huh. That's funny. Last I checked, I owned this place." She looked around. "Yep, this is my bar. I sign the checks. But do you still want that burger?"

"No," I answered for him. "But he is buying my last drink."

Dr. Hot Stuff

A med-school resident friend set me up with a man he deemed perfect for me.

We met at Starbucks. He got there first and was waiting outside. As I walked up, I could feel his eyes scanning my person from behind his sunglasses.

He stood up to give me a hug and smelled my hair.

No one had smelled my hair in ages. Not since Nick. It gave me the creeps.

"You are much more gorgeous than I expected," he said. "And your vehicle- how Texan of you, for a non-native."

I muttered some pleasantry and then he pointed to his car, a beautiful new Porsche. His car was definitely more gorgeous than he was. Not that he was bad looking- rippled body, tall, dark, olive skin. A hot, rich doctor should most certainly was my type. But I had this gut feeling telling me to go home.

We ended up going to dinner. Conversation mostly centered on him: his travels, his interests, his work.

We went out a second time. He was more attentive. I assumed that perhaps on our first meeting, he was nervous or felt like he needed to put on a show. I was starting to think there could be something.

We went out a third time. I could start to see that this had the possibility of going somewhere.

We went out a fourth time. And a fifth. And then two to three times a week for a a month and a half.

One night after dinner and a show downtown, we went back to his place for drinks.

"I'm a true man," he said.

"I'm not going to sleep with you, if that's what you're getting at."

He pulled me on his lap and started massaging my feet.

"I mean, I want to take care of you. All this could be yours." He made a sweeping gesture to highlight his 6,000 square foot, architecturally stunning home on 50 acres.

I pulled back. "I have a feeling this comes with a catch."

"Well, in my line of work..."

"Plastics. I know. Plastic surgery. I'm not having any."

"I know, my flower, I know. You don't need any surgery. You are most exquisite."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Well, the men of my family, and the women... it's just that... we're the... we don't necessarily..."

"Spit it out."

"I can't stop loving women."

"So you're telling me that I would have to put up with you sleeping around?"

"But I'd always come back to you. You would have my heart."

I put up my hand to signal 'wait' and turned around. Deep breath in to the count of 4, hold for a count of 7, release to a count of 8. I turned back to him.

"Maybe I haven't made it clear," I said. "I'm a monogamous person. And I expect the same."

"But you'd have me, all of me, and my entire heart."

"How many other girls are you seeing right now? How many lovers do you have? Am I the only one not sleeping with you?"

He looked taken aback.

"There are others, aren't there. And how many have you given this same spiel to?"

He just looked at me. No answer.

So I gathered my belongings and left, shoes in hand, the 6,000 square foot prison that could have been all mine.