So I know I promised two more dates… They’re on their way. I really need to get a retraction and an explanation off my chest. Taking the advice of my Music Theatre homeboys, Rogers & Hammerstein, “Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.” For those of you who haven’t already figured it out, I have some anxiety and trust issues. The biggie that I’m trying to work on is the beginning of intimacy and trusting someone new. It’s a long bumpy road and I’m clearly not driving the Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang car, so it’s a continuous effort and process to move forward at a reasonable pace without dissecting each and every traffic signal that just might happen to be very standard for a slow country road in these parts.  

In response to a previous reader comment: there was a month of courting before things moved forward physically. Being an unapologetic feminist, I find it offensive that a woman who likes sex and test driving the car before she signs the lease is deemed “easy.” Furthermore, I feel that “waiting” or withholding the goods from a hopefully serious suitor is immature game play that treats sex like an award or trophy to be had instead of an intimate exchange between two equals. Chastity is not a gift or way to measure value or “hook” a potential boyfriend. What’s to stop him from dumping you right after you have sex with him as his girlfriend, anyway? I know some people’s mothers might have told them “Why buy the milk when you can have the cow for free?” but I’m from New York City, the only suckers who own cows here are petting zoos and whether you have a coupon or get ripped off at a bodega, you have to buy milk sometime. Also, I pride myself in not being compared to livestock or flowers with petals dropped every time you have sex.  

Dropping the trademark metaphors for one second… It turns out, when Shady said he was feeling under the weather and went to bed early, he was telling the truth. He even proceeded to apologize again the next day for missing my call because he had really gone to bed early and inquire if I wanted to hang out the following night. He even accommodated my schedule and met me in Brooklyn when I got off of work for dinner. He then proceeded to make an announced and conscious effort to walk towards our destination in-step together, while he had his arm around my waist. He tells me things like, “You always look good whenever I see you… it’s as if it’s effortless for you.” Or my personal favorite in the middle of the crowded restaurant, “I want to cuddle you.” Men who are playing you don’t say that loud and proud in public and then follow up with wanting to be a part of your ten-year plan—they just don’t.

Shady made good on his cuddle-want back at his place while watching Mad Men on DVR. “Usually, I fast-forward through the commercials but I really want an excuse to make-out with you.” Then as things moved forward in the evening, he asked if I’d lean over and close the shades, only to PHYSICALLY start kissing my ass. After everything I’ve been through with meaningless dates and traumatic experiences and Mr. Dinges I was being my own worst enemy here. I was sabotaging the first chance I’ve had at a really good relationship. Body language to gestures to even giving me the low-down of his upcoming West Coast Trip, Shady was acting like things are moving forward.

My therapist hit the nail on the head, “You like to skip the beginning phases of things.” Funny thing about that is a house with no foundation eventually sinks into the dirt. I want my prospective relationship with Shady to be built on Limestone and since Rome wasn’t built in a day, each little headache does not mean the walls and framework come tumbling down. With all this worrying and over-analyzing I realized I am totally jipping myself of the “honeymoon phase” of this relationship—the part where you’re supposed to have fun and enjoy each other and be nauseatingly cute and rose-coloring each other silly.

Here it is guys, I’m taking a stand.  A stand against myself. Against getting in the way of my own happiness. I’m at the point where the options are extremely clear. Either test the water on your toe and go back to your lounge chair alone OR brave the chill and jump in with the hopes your body will adjust to the temperature change and enjoy the swim. Taking a step back and checking in with the “facts” aka the things that actually happened that I didn’t stumble upon and make assumptions about, point to him still playing the A-game and me playing the nut job.

Bottom Line: I’m still a fan of Shady if you guys are…

Next Up: Do you guys even want to hear about new dates 10 and 11? They were pretty heinous. For serious.

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw