not yet

It has been MONTHS. Multiple weeks. Hundreds of days. I've talked to so many guys. I've flirted, I've danced, I've gained access to dozens of clubs without paying and I've gotten enough numbers to fill a little black book. 

But. 

Of course there is a but. 

If there weren't a but, there wouldn't be a post.  

Tonight I took a leap. 

Met a guy. He bought me drinks. He bought my friends drinks. We played dice games together. He introduced me to his friends. He was sweet and he didn't lay a hand on me. Perfect. 

I decided to go to another bar. He came with me. He met my friends and got along with them well.  He didn't argue about having to pay a cover charge. He bought my drinks. He entertained himself while I talked to other people. He was a perfect gentleman. 

He paid for my cab ride home. Then he came up with me. And that is where the "but" comes into play. 

I am still not sure what happened. He did nothing wrong! He was a perfect sweetheart all night, a perfect gentleman, but I began to suffocate. I couldn't breathe. Shallow breaths were all I could muster up. I played it cool, we watched TV. I avoided his yawns and suggestions that he was tired. (Tired? Whatever. Not sleeping here. If you're tired you can go home.) I was overwhelmed. I felt cornered. So I did the first thing I thought to do... I called C. 

He isn't home, he isn't at the pub. He is out. He is busy. He isn't naming a location so I assume he is with a girl. Still, he talks me through 25 minutes of "What THE HELL am I going to do" until his phone dies. Dream guy? Still no. He didn't come over, and he didn't rescue me. He did bring me to my senses: about him and about my limits. 

I am not ready to be bringing guys home. A kiss on the cheek? I can handle that. Maybe even a quick real kiss. Beyond that? I cannot deal. At the first glimmer of a possibility of another guy I ran crying to C. Running to be saved by a guy who has only helped dig me into this hole? Proof that I should be locked up after midnight on weekends. 

Now that it is the end of the night, the cute guy has been taken home, my crisis has been averted, it is much easier for me to say that I can handle life on my own. Scrolling back in my text messages for the night shows signs of a weak, scared, sensitive, frightened girl who isn't ready to be alone-- or with someone, for that matter. 

C didn't save me tonight. He did help me through it, he did keep me company via telephone wires while I figured out my own escape plan, but he didn't come to my rescue like a true hero would. Truth is that I rescued myself. I got frustrated, made an excuse, and drove the gentleman home. I did it myself. I found my own way out of the maze. 

I only wish it made me happier. 

L