Hot People Buck the Trend (Or, Hot People Post their 50th Post!)

I've been feeling kind of bipolar lately - kind of like my life is coming apart at the seams. This is, of course, a ridonkulous notion. If I step back, it's totally obvious that my life is pretty excellent these days. I have no pants that fit me (they're all too big!), I've lived here for 4 months and I constantly astound my coworkers with the number of friends I've made and how I've jumped right into the thick of life in this surprisingly unsleepy little town, and I've started dating (?) someone really sweet and fun in the last few weeks. I am currently lying in my backyard letting nailpolish dry while I smell clover & cut grass, and soak up the late afternoon sun. What could I possibly have to complain about?

Well...there's that niggling little question mark in the parentheses up there.

I'll tell you all my worst-kept secret. I'm a list girl. I like making lists, I like reading lists, I like sorting list items using categorical measures. My listing tendencies are a huge family joke and have been ever since my uncle discovered me reading the local phone book and the national postal code directory for fun the summer I was nine. In university, I had a job doing data entry for one of my school's faculties. My task was to standardize the lists of current students, applicants and alumni. Every day I would cackle with glee that they were paying me $12/hr to do something I WOULD TOTALLY DO FOR FREE!!!

I have lists for everything - I don't choose a movie to watch, a book to read, a food to eat without consulting a list. I have lists to tell me what item of clothing to buy next, where to get my next mascara wand, and when I lived in a city with hundreds of restaurants to choose from, I was guided by a list there too, rather than what I felt like.

Any good list-maker knows that you can't make a good list without a well-defined category or two. Action, Romance, Comedy. Fiction, Non-Fiction, Reference. Italian, Sushi, Thai-fusion. Single, Taken, Married (very taken).

The whole point of the categories, and the list-making in general, is to reduce my time spent making decisions. The reason for that is that when presented with a choice, I tend to overthink things. Like, a lot. If I don't know the answer, it's cool. I probably have a list for that.

So, you see why that question mark is causing me so much grief. I don't have a label, I can't put it in a list, and as a result, I'm overthinking everything associated with it. What are we doing together? Where is this going? IS it going? Do I say "This is my friend..." when I introduce him? While it's true, I feel like it's not a completely accurate descriptor. Do I say "This is my boyfriend..."? Well, probably not. We're not there yet either, I don't think.

But, if I give the rational part of my brain a much needed chance to contribute to my thought-soup, I know the answer is that I can't stick this whatever-it-is in a list to avoid making a considered decision. Furthermore, I'm pretty sure this isn't a decision I make on my own anyway. He isn't MY anything unless HE decides to be. The only thing I am free to label is me. And I am his...

This decision doesn't have to be made tomorrow. It's just surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly) hard to fight my natural label-and-list tendencies. In the meantime, I'll have to just enjoy the ride, even if it leaves me a bit listless.

Hot People Contain Their Glee

First of all, I'm learning that not a lot of heterosexual males around these parts share my devotion to that television show. Alas, I indulge that guilty pleasure alone, ensconced in the comfort of a throw blanket in my office staring, eyes-wide, at my computer screen.

But that's not really what I mean. I had a date last night (this time I KNOW it was a date). I was pretty effing excited about a. the date in general...cuz...I mean, well, you know how it's been, and b. the person with whom I was having the date. He's pretty cute. And pretty sweet. And I'm pretty sure the date went really well. And...well, see here's the problem.

I am having a REALLY hard time playing it cool. I feel as though my previous experience hasn't really prepared me for this "dating" thing. Having had one major relationship spanning ages 20-25, much of my formative dating years were missed. And that relationship began kind of like this: First, we didn't know each other. Then we knew each other and we were (more-or-less) in a relationship. There wasn't really that getting-to-know-you dating period where you know you like each other but you don't spend every waking minute together, which is where I'm pretty sure I am now. Since that relationship ended, sure, I've had dates, but since I think REALLY highly of myself and have super high standards (maybe THAT's why I'm still single) I really just wanted those dates to be over and never happen again. So I can't even draw from previous fledgling dating experience because it nearly always flopped from the first moment.

I'm also a little concerned about the hotness goal now. I've been as much as told that I've "attained hotness," but as I've said before, I don't feel really good about deciding that I've reached a goal because someone (even a boy I really like) else told me I'd done it. That's not to say I didn't REALLY enjoy hearing it, but I think you know what I mean.

As a result, I'm pretty much totally at a loss. I am simultaneously deliriously happy, terrified, tentative and reckless. And I'd really like all those feelings to ensconce themselves within my psyche in a manner similar to my ensconcement of myself for private Glee viewings. I think they're failing at this.