Going Out on a Limb

You are hereby forewarned that this post may come across as uncharacteristically schmaltzy. Make no mistake, however, I am still a jaded bitch. Somewhere in there. Really. I am.

So the comments stemming from this post really kind of got me thinking - a scary prospect, I realize, but perhaps a good thing nontheless. See, Orphannie, as usual, kind of hit the nail on the head and called me out on what I stubbornly didn't want to admit was true. She said "i'm just saying make sure you're not finding fault with everyone just because you don't want to get close to anyone". This hit home hard, as it certainly fits in with my pattern, as has also been stated by Lady Charon on more than one occasion. Swandad told me to "shit or get off the pot!" and while this first seemed perhaps harsh, I think he had a valid point. Armed with all of this, I went home for Rosh Hashanah, determined to prove everyone wrong and come up with concrete arguments proving that I was indeed open and giving this guy a chance.

Even my own mother took their side, saying that it seemed to her I was nitpicking and finding any excuse to dismiss this guy. She asked if I had told him that PDA bothered me. Umm, well, no, but umm...he should know by my reactions, right? Okay, okay. I suppose that nondisclosure does fall into the catagory of not giving the guy a fair chance.

But I didn't think I was scared of anything. I mean, Doc Harley's incredibly weird, but totally non-threatening and not really asking for more than I can give. Scared? What could I possibly be scared of?

By the end of my time away, I had finally called a resounding "Bullshit!" on myself.

The truth is I'm uncomfortable with being treated nicely. I'm scared of the prospect of an easy stress free male / female interaction. Its the great big scary unknown, and what if I get used to it? What if I like it and then it goes away? See, I don't exactly have a history of being treated well by people with penises - in fact, it all reads more like one neverending after school special, replete with cheesy music and meaningful camera takes. I'm so used to having to fight my way through things that I'm not sure how to relax and let go, so I seek out the familiar territory of the battle ground. And when it's not there, I search out reasons to abandon the good in serach of the bad. Its not a masochistic thing, its just a learned behavior. Does that make any sense?

I decided it was time to indeed "shit or get off the pot!". I chose to shit.

Wow, I really should choose another maxim; I'm thinking that's either incredibly insulting or ultimately prophetic...only time will tell.

I came back home ready to give him a real chance, not just the transparent facade of a chance he'd been previously afforded...and wow, what a difference it made. The silly little things that annoyed me and seemed so big really weren't, they were just magnified by fear. I told him how much I hate PDA, and we've sort of found a compromise consisting of he mostly abstains and when he goes too far I push him away and remind him that 1. I hate PDA and 2. I will be spending the night with him. He can kiss and grope me as much as he likes...in private. Then he makes fun of what he considers my tight lipped public kiss. Whatever. He's definitely trying to respect my wishes and that's what's important.

I ended up spending a really lovely weekend with him. Saturday afternoon we went to see Robert Bresson's Pickpocket at the Film Forum - his idea, and the absolute perfect thing for what was the official start date of monsoon season here in the city. This was followed by drinks at a wonderful little treasure of a restaurant that one of his patients owns; its tucked away in an alley and you walk into a completely different time and place. He actually doesn't really drink and I think its rather odd that I, who could be called a bit of a lush, keep dating men who don't drink. We met SL2000 for dinner, who said that Doc Harley was "unexpectedly classy"...something I had been too busy pushing him away to notice. We floated (literally) down the street to hear Betty Dylan, one of my favorite bands (who were incredible, of course), where we met up with more friends, including The Lone Star Talent, my future roomate.

Let me just state that he didn't bat an eyelash at meeting a gaggle of friends all at once. That's refreshing, to say the least. He also invited everyone back to his apartment to hang out afterwards, which gets big points, you know? He didn't have to do that...inviting people over is a whole other level above and beyond the call of duty.

Not that there's any duty. Just so you know - I'm stating for the record right now there is no duty.

So one of my friends, Mr. Haberdasher, ended up staying over at Doc Harley's on the couch (yet another case of above and beyond whatever term means the same thing but isn't the call of duty) that night. In the morning the boys went out for brunch supplies while I was a lazy princess and took a bubble bath. We had a lovely brunch and then went on an impromptu adventure to the Met.

Wow. I'm dating someone who likes to go on impromptu adventures, like me. To museums no less!

I'm also dating someone that doesn't know how to use an inside voice in a museum.

It was lovely nontheless; the 5 year old in him is endearing as well as annoying, I find. We spent about 3 or 4 hours in the museum and then went to the park, where Mr. Haberdasher and Doc Harley had me in stitches with their running commentary of everyone who passed by. We rounded off the day with a trip to Veselka to warm our chilly bones with tons of yummy Russian food (there's nothing like Borscht on a cold day). Then Doc Harley and I went back to his place and cuddled up on the couch watching Mystery on PBS (yes, I watched television, but it was PBS, so that makes it okay).

It was kind of the perfect little weekend.

Wow, that scares me. That scares me almost as much as the fact that I called him this afternoon just to say hi.

He did ask if I wanted to go to the Oyster Festival this weekend to hear his friend's band play and told me to invite whatever friends I wanted to, which I thought very cool of him. The weekend after that we're going out of town, to a wedding. I'm his date for a wedding...yikes! And we're going to get a hotel room or maybe even a B&B and have a weekend adventure.

So I'm giving him a chance. And I had a really great weekend. I guess that should really be enough for now, but of course I'm an obsessive worrier and can't leave it at just that. I should though. I should just enjoy this right now. Easier said than done. I'm not used to this, thus it scares me.

And no, Mr. Artsy Hotpants, none of this means he's my boyfriend!