Psychotherapy

Sunday, Sept. 16, 2007 @ 6:27 p.m.

JAG asked me to go to Vegas with him next month. A high school friend of his is getting married there, and he asked me to go with him. As his wedding date? I dunno. But I've completely given up on over-analyzing and labelling everything... and it's really refreshing and so much less stressful. So I'm just gonna go with the flow. Not wanting to be presumptious, I asked him if he wanted to share a room or if he needed to have his own. He said "We can share a room... unless you need your own?". I said I didn't. Moments later, he emailed me the confirmation email for the room reservation - he got a suite with one King bed. Ummm... yeah. Perhaps he didn't indicate on the reservation if he wanted one or two beds, and the hotel just assigned one? I dunno. But I'm not gonna wreck my brain trying to figure it out.

He's been out of town for the past week (and will be out of town for another couple of weeks) on business, but we've been chatting online every now and then. And he's called me a couple of times. Everything's been very friendly, no flirtation whatsoever. And then this Vegas invite. So... I really don't know what his deal is, but I'm just gonna go with the flow and take it as whatever it is. Perhaps he wanted to organize a road trip with other friends of his, and I just happened to be the first one he asked? Possibly. We shall see. The less I expect, the happier I'm gonna be.

In other news, I met a very interesting guy Friday evening. He's a psychotherapist... and a damn handsome one. I was hanging out with my friends Doug and Kevin at The Motherlode, and he was there with his friend. Doug and Kevin ended up playing doubles (pool game) with him and his friend, so that's how we met. It wasn't instantly apparent to me that he was attracted to me. After the bars closed at 2am, he kept looking for an after-hours party to go to 'cos he didn't want to go home just yet. We didn't manage to find one, so we just went to get a slice of pizza instead before heading home. There, he started winking at me across the table and putting his arm around me every now and then. After pizza, we all said our goodbyes and started heading back to our cars/homes. I offered to give him a ride home, and we started talking. And talking. And talking. I mean... he was REALLY great to talk to.

I stopped my car just outside his place, and we just sat in my car and talked for about another 3 hours. Turns out that he had just gotten out of a 3-year relationship 2 months ago, and he was still living with his ex (in separate rooms) until they could sell their place and then move out. So I guess that was why he didn't want to go home when the bars closed. But anyway, I really enjoyed talking to him, because we could both talk about psychology. At some point during the conversation, he started holding my hand. And well... towards the end, he kissed me. And we made out for a bit. He's a great kisser... very slow and tender, yet passionate. So yeah, it was really fun.

It was ten past 5am, so we decided to call it a night. I went to bed at a quarter to 6. We tried to make plans to get together again Saturday night, but he had a housewarming party to go to, so we didn't manage to make it happen. He called me when he got home (It was 2:48am), and we talked again for about 30 minutes.

I have no expectations from him. I mean... I like him so far, but it would be foolish of me to have any. He's still freshly broken up from his ex, and I think it's safe to assume that getting into anything right now would be the furthest thing from his mind... and I completely understand and respect that. But I definitely would like to at least be friends with him, 'cos I really enjoy talking to him. We had such a great connection that seemed completely effortless. That's not something you find everyday. I hope to hang out with him again before long, so we shall see how it goes.

I'm meeting new people and making new friends on a constant basis... which is great, considering that when I broke up with French Fitch in January, I practically had zero friends. I thought that French Fitch would affect me so much that I would turn into a bitter and jaded person, never to explore any possibilities of romance ever again. Granted, I'm still single today, but I'm glad that I haven't completely lost sight of "happily ever after". And I'm still alive in that sense. I've gotten my heart trampled on several times since, but it's good to know that I'm more resilient than I thought I was.

Will I eventually find someone to grow old with?

I don't know, and nobody can say for sure either way. But I think I'm probably never going to completely lose all hope. I really hope I never do.

But in the meantime, I'm not gonna think "Could this be Him?" about every single guy I meet. I'm just gonna relax, have fun, and go with the flow. If it'll happen, it'll happen. And if it doesn't... then well, I'll end up with lots of good friends, and I'd have lived a fun-filled existence. Not a bad deal.

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