That’s right, my ex is engaged. And I’m not taking it well.

It doesn’t seem fair, you know? I have two ex-husbands now. Two of them. Not to imply that I’m a perfect angel, because I’m not. But both of them did something pretty terrible to me. So it seems like in some karmic way I should come out on top, right? Of course.

Except ex #1 is married to the girl he slept with while we were married and they have a son now. And ex #2 has hauled off and gotten engaged to the girl he was dating while he was trying to get me back. And what of me? That’s right, I’m living alone without a boyfriend or even a cat.

Singlegal reminded me today that I’m not the only one. That I’m normal. But that doesn’t stop me from joining her in her virtual temper tantrum. Or from thinking that it’s simply not fair.

I was the one who was wronged. I was the one who was hurt. I was the one who did the right thing. And I’m the only one who’s still alone. So you see, it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that I’m also the one who goes to bed alone every night. That I’m the one who is starved for human touch. That I’m the one who still cries themself to sleep some nights. That I’m the one who is starting to think I’m meant to be alone and never meant to have children.

Ironically, I don’t want either of these men. I am happier without them, and that’s not a line. I don’t regret leaving in either case. I’m not sorry.

But still, it’s not fair. And I want to be over it. I want to be ok with this, but I’m not. I’m not fine. I’m not cool. And I haven’t been able to let go yet. And that makes me angrier than their newborn son or their engagement announcement. The fact that I can’t let go is what weighs on me now. I want to be over it. I want to be done. So why aren’t I?

Yesterday as I laid down for a nap I dreamed of ex #2. I dreamed he sent me pictures of his new apartment with his new fiancee. I dreamed he told me how he was doing things right with her even though he didn’t with me. Then, in my dream, I somehow let myself in while they weren’t home, and looked around. It was a beautiful place. What I might have wanted with him once upon a time. And just as I went to leave, he came home. I ran and hid and then abruptly woke up with my heart pounding.

I wish I were a bigger person than this, but apparently I’m not. I wish I were over this, but apparently I’m not. I wish I were better than this, but apparently I’m not.

And sometimes, life just isn’t fair.

I like LC. In fact, I really like LC. So much so that the height thing has ceased to matter. I like spending time with him. In fact, I’d even like to spend more time with him than we have been up until now. I invited him to dinner with my friends on Sunday. And to something with me next week. And I suggested that maybe he should consider spending Thanksgiving with me.

I know, I know. It’s ok. I’ll give you a moment to pick yourself up off the floor after that last one.

But… there’s always a but, right? There is a problem. And in my mind, it’s a big problem. He uhhhh… can’t seem to seal the deal. If you know what I mean.

I mean, we’ve had a few overnights now. He is a cuddly sleeper by the way. I do like that. But once you slide between the sheets, and before the cuddly sleeping part…. you know. There are certain activities that are likely to occur. We are both attracted to each other. We are both kind of touchy feely folks. I’m in my 30s, and we’ve already discussed what that means. So, you know, there it is. And everything starts off quite lovely. Except, it doesn’t finish that way. In fact, it doesn’t really finish at all. It just ends rather abruptly. Sometimes with an excuse, sometimes not. But end it does, and not to mutual satisfaction. And it certainly isn’t for lack of trying on my part.

I have paid careful attention to what he likes, and try to make sure I exceed those needs. I have tried asking if there’s something he needs or that I could do differently. I have tried taking control and taking care of him that way.

So now we’re at an impasse. I have never been here. I am afraid to talk about it because that seems like it would just make matters worse. I am afraid to initiate anything for fear of putting undue pressure on LC. And I’m even more afraid that I will never be properly laid again.

So I like him. I like him a lot. But is there any chance this will ever right itself? Because I imagine this to be a complete deal breaker if it’s not a workable situation. And for once, I am in serious need of advice. Especially from the boys. Please.

Boys, if you will… imagine yourself at 18 or 20. You were probably pawing madly at whatever girl you were with at the time. Your nearly every thought was consumed by the devil in your pants. It clouded your vision basically all the time. It would be easier to discuss the times you were not thinking about, plotting, or wishing for sex. Because the times you weren’t, well… they were few and far between if they existed at all. And that girl, the one who was the object of your lusty affections? Was probably wondering why the hell you couldn’t just keep your damn hands off her already. And by the way, don’t you ever think about anything else? (The answer, for the record, was no. No you didn’t. But you probably tried to lie about it anyway.) The point was, we totally didn’t get it.

I’ll admit to my part in this little drama. I was that girl. I mean sure, we liked all that stuff. But we wanted to not always be naked and grabbing at each other, you know? We wanted to feel like more to you. And it’s not like we never gave it up. We just didn’t do it as much as you apparently wanted us to. And we really didn’t know why on earth you were behaving like that anyhow.

That is, until we turned 30. Most men at this age have gotten some degree control over their trouser snakes and are living a more balanced existence. And hooray for you. Our 18-year-old selves are pleased as punch. Unfortunately our 30-year-old selves really wish you’d take off your pants and make yourself useful. I mean, don’t get me wrong here. We love that you take us out for nice dinners and really enjoy spending time with us. We totally realize that you see us as whole people now and appreciate who we are. But, you know, we really kind of wish you could do all that while naked and on top of us too please.

Ironically, at 30 most of you are a bit less amused by the idea of going at it three times a day*. A couple times a week would do you just fine. And you wish we’d see you for more than a thrill ride and really appreciate who you are as a person. We, on the other hand, spent years evaluating who you are. We are glad we took that time too. I mean, we’re still totally interested in that. But there’s no reason we can’t learn still more about you while also separating you from those pesky boxer briefs that seem to always be in the way. And if you need a break in that area, we totally understand. But, you know, there are other ways to meet our needs. Just ask… we’d be glad to make a list for you.

Men, I’d like you to know that we are deeply sorry about how we acted when you were 18. Truly we are. It wasn’t actually our fault though. You see, nature has a cruel sense of humor. Back then, we didn’t know what it was like, and nature just totally failed us on that front. With every birthday I start to think she’s actually kind of a cruel bitch with one twisted sense of humor. But that aside, most of us are more than willing to atone for our former sins. All you need to do to receive our apology is… well… to take off your pants. I promise, it’ll totally be worth your while. I mean, some things really do improve with age.  And for the right man? I’m more than happy to demonstrate.

* If you actually still do want it three times a day? Please send your number. I know someone who would love to meet you.

Halloween is truly the sneaky stress holiday. It seems all innocent and fun. Candy and masks and pumpkins and all. Right up until people start inviting you to their parties. This year I’ve been invited to no less than four. That’s right, FOUR Halloween parties. This presents some interesting problems, beyond my simple inability to be more than one place at a time.

First of all, I have a single gal admission. I hate going to parties alone. There are very few parties that I am comfortable going to on my own. Of the four I was invited to, one and only one is comfortable alone. Second, these aren’t regular parties, they are costume parties of course. So the question of what to wear is now multiplied by about a million. Halloween costumes are sized stupidly, fit horribly, and make you look ridiculous no matter what you do. First there is the desperate dig through the closet to see what’s in there. It was a combination of “made me look like a lumpy sack” and “might not fit anymore and I’m too proud to find out”. So a new costume had to be purchased. Fine. That took about a week of my time and probably a few years off my life. But now I have a costume. Then something else happened.

Before I even knew it was coming, I had invited LC to the one party I was planning on attending alone. There it was… the biggest step I’ve taken with any guy in a long time. First of all, I planned something two weeks in advance with a guy. Which may not seem big but please note, it assumes said guy will be around for longer than two weeks. A huge assumption for me to be making, that is… if you know me. Second, I invited him to a place full of my friends. A whole bunch of them. And thirdly, the first time they meet him, he will be dressed ridiculously. Oh sure, we all will. But there it is. An obstacle nonetheless.

And so it is that this seemingly innocent holiday has become as stressful as the ones to come. He doesn’t have a costume yet. I have to tell my friends I’m bringing someone. He doesn’t know it yet but they’re kind of protective. Oh and he’s short and his costume may or may not involve lederhosen. My date will be judged while looking vaguely like a leprauchan. I really need to start thinking these things through.

And if you think this is bad? Just wait until Thanksgiving. Oh boy.

While this is a good theory and one I still live by, it sometimes glosses over the fact that we all still have preferences. And while french cut versus kitchen cut may not be a big deal, you still wanted green beans after all, right? Or whatever, you get the point.

So what if during your stroll down dating aisle, you meet someone you mesh with. Things are good. But something is off…. one strong preference of yours is just not met in this man. Maybe he’s perfect except he doesn’t like to travel. Or maybe you get along really great but you just can’t get over how he dresses. Or maybe you have a blast together but he’s just too skinny or overweight. Sure, in the big picture it looks like these things should be surmountable obstacles… or are they?

At what point do we compromise, or not? What if he is overweight? Do you accept that? Do you hope he’ll lose the extra pounds? Or do you run for the hills? What if he turns into an obnoxious jerk when watching sports… every weekend? Do you set up a TV in a separate room and ignore it, or do you cut your losses and leave? What if he doesn’t dress nicely? Do you buy him a new shirt and tell him what to wear to meet your family, or do you simply give up?

Dear readers, when do you build a bridge and get over it? Or when is the chasm just too wide? This one date wonder wants to know what you think.

Here is how it goes down. Boy makes it clear he wants to be with me. The right boy in the right way. Roughly three quarters of my cold black heart turns into happy mush. But not all of it. No no, one quarter of my heart manages to shrivel up even further (who knew that was even possible?). That one quarter riots and fights. It stages a full on mutiny . And it starts to infect the happy mushy three quarters. The longer I’m left alone the worse it gets. And this is even before any talk of long term commitment has been brought to the table!

This is how I imagine I’m protecting myself. By always holding partly back. By not completely letting go. And yes, I know… by sabotaging chances at happiness. This is how I rightfully earn my self-deemed title of One Date Wonder. I find reasons to run before I even have anything to run from. It’s what I do.

There is a whole page full of reasons why LC and I are really kind of good together. They are based on the real things that women always tell you they want in a man. They are not just what shows up on paper but the other stuff too. The intangibles that never make anyone’s list. But if I’m left alone long enough, I will come up with a page full of reasons why I need to run too. Ranging from the fact that my inseam is longer than his (inconsequential) to the fact that I don’t want to be a rebound girl (totally consequential).

So right now I’m trying to turn a new leaf by staring down that black twisty piece of my heart. That’s right, I see you over there in the corner. Trying to infect my chances at happiness. And while I recognize that there is some truth in what you say… I could very well get hurt again… I also recognize that with no risk comes no reward. So I’m going to let this guy flirt with me. And we’ll just see how it goes, ok? Ok then.

I’m totally serious about the inseam though.

Now let me tell you exactly why waiting this long is problematic. Usually I don’t stress over the first kiss. It is what it is, and with any luck it will come along, be quite nice, and break the ice for future lip locks. Sure it is full of possibility and all that fun stuff, but it’s also sweet and fun. It lets you know that the person you’ve been out with is attracted to you and interested. It may even answer some questions you had about them. So, you know, it’s good. And it’s usually fun and just nothing to get all worked up over.

Except when it doesn’t come. Or when you have to wait six dates for it. At that point it becomes some crazy obstacle. The waiting builds it up into something it never needed to be. So that when that moment does arrive, and he’s finally moving in… well, a perfectly cool one date wonder might start behaving like a ridiculous school girl.

Yes, that’s right. I giggled, I blushed, I was awkward. I’m sure it was the opposite of charming. In fact, I’m not sure why he didn’t throw me into my car and run for the hills. Truly it was a spectacle of the no good variety. I even considered reporting back on how cool I was the whole time. But, dear readers, I just couldn’t lie to you. I made an ass of myself. Oh yes, yes I did.

Luckily, he did none of those things. Instead he put up with my shenanigans, kissed me a few more times, and asked me out again. Right. Next time I promise to play it cool lest I become a complete embarrassment to all of you.

And so ends the saga of the situation. Please stay tuned for further adventures with Lucky Charms, or LC as I will surely call him.

No change. I know, I know… but seriously. No change. Friday we met at his place and went out for dinner, then went back to his apartment with the bottle of wine I brought and just settled in. We talked for a long time, then finally switched on the movie we had discussed. At that point I thought we were finally heading somewhere. I mean, he scootched over on the couch and put his arm around me. It was progress! So I cuddled up against him and we watched. And we watched, and we watched. At 1 AM I was finally too tired to be true and had to excuse myself. He walked me down to the car, hugged me tightly, and kissed me…

…

… on the cheek. I got in my car, waited until he was out of sight, and banged my head repeatedly on the steering wheel. Because seriously, who kisses you on the cheek? Your grandmother, that’s who. Not the guy you’ve gone out with four times.

We went out again on Sunday, because apparently I am just that foolish. No kiss at all that time, cheek or otherwise. So I would like to note now, for the record, that I have been out with this man five times… FIVE TIMES… and he has kissed me once on the cheek.

Last night I totally called him on it. And by totally I mean vaguely. And by called him on it, I mean initiated an awkward conversation over IM. I just kind of asked if he was just wanting to be friends or was looking for something more or what because I was confused. Then we hedged around each other for a few minutes and both admitted we weren’t sure what we were doing after all. Then he comes out with “I did kiss you the other night…” And it was everything I could do not to type “ON THE CHEEK!!!”. (I shrieked it out loud instead. Yay for IMs.) Then we each had to step away for a few minutes and when we returned, he just gleefully changed the subject and I let him.

Then he asked me out again. Seriously. Back to his place for dinner in and another movie. I am stymied. I no longer have any clue what this means. I may only be going just to create more fodder for this blog so as to amuse you further. Because seriously, I couldn’t even make this up.

Five dates, one grandmotherly kiss on the cheek. It’s worse than high school, I swear.

PS - I refuse to give him his nickname until he kisses me. It has been picked out for like a week now and I am not letting him have it until he earns it. Otherwise he will remain that guy who didn’t kiss me. So there.

So, the bottom line here is that the guy still hasn’t kissed me.

Monday was another great date. We laughed, we talked, we had an amazing meal together. There was some encouraging casual touching. But at the end, there was a very nice hug with absolutely no kiss. I went upstairs completely confused. I had thought that surely, after such a good time, a kiss was forthcoming. And yet, I was wrong.

So gentle readers, imagine my surprise at what happened next! On Monday night, we made a date for Sunday afternoon. So I knew he still wanted to see me, which of course made everything more confusing. But as the week wore on, it became apparent that he was fishing for another date before Sunday. I played dense, he fished harder, and I finally called him on it. So we made a date for Friday evening, at his request. And when I asked him what he wanted to do, you will not believe what he said. He wants to watch movies at his place!

Now, any experienced one date wonder knows that movies at his place is not just an invitation for movies. It is always, without fail, an invitation to get naked together. I mean, you can be coy about it if you like, but really, think about it. In a dating context, any invitation for movies in is always made with the intention of sex. I am comfortable making that kind of blanket statement. I have been dating for some time now and have never, not once ever, found that invitation to mean anything but “let’s get it on”.

So how is it that someone who can’t even kiss me can so boldly head right to sexy town like that? I mean, do you think he just doesn’t know? Does he actually mean to show me how Bluray is superior to DVD as he claims? Could it honestly be that this invitation is made without intent to invade my pants?

I honestly don’t know that answer. I have accepted the invitation because I think it may be the only way this man will ever kiss me, as nothing else seems to be doing the trick. I decided I’m a big girl and can stop the action if it progresses too far (because honestly, I’m not ready for all of that just yet). But I really think that maybe my ninja-like deflection skills may be unnecessary here. How can a man who hasn’t even kissed me goodnight possibly go right for a panty raid like that? What say you?

My plans for the evening had fallen through and I was chatting with my date from Sunday. He suggested dinner and a movie. I opted out of the movie on the grounds that I had to be up early the next day and suggested dinner and booze instead. The compromise was met with approval. My date actually chose quite a nice restuarnt in the city and had reservations made for us before I even knew what hit me. In fact, it was quite impressive. He even came to pick me up.

We had a very nice evening. Excellent food, a fantastic bottle of wine, and great conversation. He opened doors, picked up the check, and generally was quite charming. By the end of the evening I was a bit dazzled and also a bit full of wine, but not so full of anything that I didn’t remember that this was our second date and he hadn’t yet kissed me.

Now, kissing on the first date is a controversial deal. I usually try not to and I occasionally (read, often) get those plans foiled. On my first date with this guy, I got a nice hug at the end. That is quite good actually, so no problem. But in my experience, a hug at the end of the first date equals a kiss at the end of the second.

So when he dropped me off back at my place, I was wondering what was going to happen. We chatted for a minute, I fished out my keys, and said goodnight. He did nothing. So I reached over for a hug. He hugged me back…. and then did nothing. I just got out of the car and went inside.

What on earth is up with that? I’d start to think he doesn’t like me, except he expressed a very clear very direct desire to go out again and we have another date lined up for Monday evening. I’d blame the garlic steak at dinner, but we both had some. I am fresh out of things to blame, and actually a little confused.

Are there men out there who wait beyond two dates to kiss a gal? Does it mean something secret that I’m unaware of? Or is this guy just a gentleman amongst a sea of those who were not? Help me out folks, I’m a little lost on this one.