I have a love life, but like everything else, it’s quite chaotic.

Snapshot version:  I am single.  No, really.  I am absolutely celibate, although not by choice.  I am heart-broken.  I am hopeful.  I am going on too many dates . . .

BFD

Two weeks ago, BFD broke up with me.  As usual, we’re happier apart than together.  He’s calling every single day, checking in constantly, and taking me to dinner, and kissing me goodnight.  He’s a better boyfriend when we’re apart.  At midnight, which happens to be the start of his birthday, I received an email from him, which got increasingly cuter as the exchange went on.  I know BFD very, very well at this point.  It’s hard to know what will ultimately happen, but he’s still very much part of my life and will be for a long time to come.  I shot him a last minute dinner invite for his birthday, knowing he had company executives in town, just in case he was plan-free.  He declined saying: “hey honey aside from thursday this week is grim….”  Thursday is when we’re having dinner.  He is spoiling himself a bit this weekend with a last-minute ski trip, canceling on a cultural event we were doing with friends. He steeled himself for my anger or opprobrium, but I am happy for him.  My goal with BFD is for him to have FUN.  He’s been miserable for months, so a few days on the slopes is wonderful and I know he’ll come back happier.  We have a big weekend planned in the near future — so we’ll see.

LP

LP is gone. Eight days ago, we were exchanging photos.  Now, he’s gone.  Again. No calls, no texts, no response in a little over a week.  I believe it’s not personal, but perhaps I should clarify that with him.  I have not seen him in person in almost two months, which given who he is and what he is doing is not surprising or unexpected as he’s not here . . . my friends who do similar things at a similar altitude have told me it’s not personal that it’s all-consuming and he’ll eventually resurface.

Still . . . I hear his name, or say his name, and it hurts every time.  I almost have tears when I thought about him on Sunday and said his name aloud to my very sweet date.  LP is my heartbreak.

The New Guys

I have decided I love dating.  I do.  Part of it is that I am awesome, at least according to my dates.

We have so far:  the Nice Guy, the Too-Smart Scientist, the Tech Exec, the CEO, the Banker, and probably more if I think about it.

  • the Nice Guy . . . is super-nice.  Almost too nice.  He’s beginning to make me freaking skittish, but he’s really nice.  We’ve had two dates in a week — wine, which turned into wine at a wine bar and dinner at an elegant restaurant, and brunch, which turned into brunch and impromptu superbowl watching.
  • the Too Smart Scientist . . . is super-smart, fascinating, warm and gracious, and slightly dangerous for me in that he can be domineering, which I like.  We had our first date on Monday night — wine, which turned into wine and cheese at an elegant wine bar, then a fabulous dinner at a chic hipster dive, which sounds contradictory, but here, it’s not.  He introduced me to everyone and was incredibly charming. Asked me out again on the first date.
  • the Tech Exec . . . travels too much, even for me, and I suspect he’s older than he says.  We’ve not been able to schedule a date because he’s been in town 2 days in 2 weeks.  And I am not totally motivated.
  • the CEO . . . nice, cute, foreign, but hard to schedule.  We met on ehm, reconnected on match, and he’s cute and interesting.
  • the Banker . . . impossible to schedule and bad at follow-up, so he’s done.

Thanks to all the dates, I am up 3-5 pounds, which is not a bad thing to be honest.  Nice Guy said, well, you actually look better . . .

Funny thing is I am being extremely honest and open with everyone, explaining I am not really single, taking this really slowly, and I hugging only everyone but BFD (we do kiss).

I am going to take the next month or two to figure it all out, but I love dating.

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