Will I ever learn?

I am supremely confused. Caught between my distant past (parent's divorce), my recent past (the Republican) and the present (Tim). I don't know how I feel or what I want. I'm bopping all over the place, from wanting Tim to call, to wishing he would disappear, to being terrified he'll disappear .

Last night, I went to the blogger meetup, which was good fun. I met Velvet in Dupont and saw Damian and met his friend, Carl. I drank a couple of beers, yakked it up and listened to the Damian and Carl routine, all the while fiddling with the goddamn cell phone and wishing it would ring.

When I hopped on the bus back to my part of the world, I called Pele, "He hasn't called yet and it's almost 10! What's going on?"

"I don't know, but that's not right."

"It seems like he should call. I could call, but he said he would and..."

"He should call. It doesn't make sense for you to call. There was no ambiguity about it."

"Exactly."

I knew that calling him would send the message that I didn't trust him. I have no reason not to trust him. Pele and I chatted about some other things, I tried to be distracted. The bus was too loud for further conversation so we got off the phone. A few minutes later, Tim called.

I was so worked up that I wasn't happy he called. I went all the way to the place where I tried to reconcile myself to never hearing from him again. Miserable.

He didn't apologize for calling so late. He was at the ball game, which accounted for the timing. Then he wanted to switch the date from Thursday to Friday. "Is that okay?"

"I guess so..."

"Let me tell you why. My friend from work wants to go to some of the downtown happy hours on Thursday. You can do that with us...or we can go out on Friday."

I was confused. He's changing the day? Is it either or? Does he still want to see me? "I guess Friday is fine. I don't need to do happy hour. Though I'm sure I would have a good time."

"Well, it's up to you."

"It's up to me? What would you prefer?"

"You're welcome to come with us, but I'd rather we just went out, the two of us, on Friday."

"Let's do that then."

I got off the bus at Union Station and he stayed on the phone with me as I walked home. I said, "So what do you want to do?"

He said, "I can pick you up and we can go to dinner. How about that? Why don't we try that new restaurant on 8th Street--the Belga Café."

I've been there twice--once with Dad and once with Mom--which I mentioned. I said, "You know, I'd really rather not go there. The best thing they have is mussels, which I won't order, and everything else is heavy stews and things like that. It's too much for this weather." Immediately, I felt bad. I'd rejected his choice, but had no other suggestions.

"We don't need to go there."

"Well, if you really want to try it..."

"No, no, we'll go somewhere else. Or we can go to the baseball game. I think they're playing the Mets."

"Okay, that would be fun."

"But there's this other restaurant I'd like to try--my friend recommended it. It's in [fancy hotel], so it might be too expensive."

I said, "Well, the Belga Café isn't cheap--how much is too expensive?"

"I don' t want to spend more than, say, $20 an entrée. Does that sound reasonable?"

"No, that's about right but, what, am I treating?" Now, tell me, why did I say that? Idiot!

"No! That's not what I meant."

"No, no, I understand, that sounds fine. I don't want to spend more than that either." (Early on in dating, I don't want to go to super fancy places. I don' t want a guy spending tons of money on me. It makes me uncomfortable. I love fancy restaurants, but I prefer to save them for special occasions or parental visits.)

He said he would check the restaurant and see how pricey it was and we'd do that or go to the ball game. "Okay?"

"Um, sure."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, it's just...I like to have a plan."

"We do have a plan--we're going to the restaurant or to the game. I'll call you tomorrow and confirm."

"You'll call me?" I couldn't bear to wait for another phone call--it would kill me. Kill me dead. "When? After you get back from the happy hours?"

"When do you get off work?"

"Around 6:30."

"I'll call you at 6:29, okay?"

I laughed. "Okay. Good."

He sounds like a catch and I sound like a lunatic. Great start.

At 1:14 pm today, I received this text message, "I made reservations at 730 pm on Friday at the restaurant. You can check out the menu at www.restaurant.com."

I wrote back, "Great! I've always wanted to try it."

I was very happy. I am looking forward to seeing him. I like him again.

Perhaps he's patient with me because he thinks my craziness stems from the separated-but-not-divorced situation. Little does he know that I'm just out of my mind on general principle. It troubles me how easily I get anxious when it has to do with a guy. I hate it. I need to get a grip.

On another note, Spesh left for Israel today. It was great having him. We got along really well--I don't think we had one argument while he was here. I hope he moves back. His guest post was a hoot.

Grateful for: getting a grip (sometime soon) and not fighting with Spesh.