So I swore I’d never go to AmbiguityLand again. But, alas. If you’re dating at all, it’s impossible to avoid.



Everything is in code; everything is between the lines. If it weren’t, I’d be every boy's worst nightmare. I'd say things to Dr. S. like, “What does it mean when you take three days to respond to my e-mail?!” and “If you’re asking me out for a third time, does that mean we’re going to get married?!”



This, however, is why I have girlfriends. They provide free, immediate interpretation of coded messages, which I am too biased to decode, as well as providing deeply cynical commentary and advice.



When I wrote a gushy e-mail to them about my second date with Memphis Boy (MB), for example, GalPal#1 wrote back:



“MB sounds delightful. But so does a nice hot bath.”



Ouch.



Anyway, now I’m in a très ambiguous situation with the L’il Rockclimbing Spy (LRS). Remember him? Yeah, I know, SO two weeks ago!



Anyway, before I went to the Big Apple, he appeared to be blowing me off. FINE, right? Who needs him and his nice muscles, etc.? But I felt bad, I really did. For about four days. I mean, I’m only human. ™ Then I got over it, and – poof—I let him go as I crossed this great big, star-spangled country on a Xanax high.



When I came back, he started calling again. Playing it cool. But obviously still interested. I’m playing it cool too (if you can believe that) and have not grabbed that plastic fly with my gaping jaws.



And so far, it's all hi, how are you, and not, why were we so hot, and then NOT, and just what exactly is happening now, which are really the questions on everybody’s mind.



You know what, though? I’m FINE with it this time, I really am. Because I have achieved ZEN detachment from the situation. He hurt my feelings, I got over it, and now I don’t really care. That much. It would be nice to see that cute “pouch” underwear and feel that soft skin and…well, you know.



But still. Now I’m trying to blow him off. Why get sucked back in? He behaved badly once. And besides, the girlfriends all agree: Let it go. I'm just not good at blowing cute boys off, that's all.



But there are plenty of other boys around to take my mind off his nice, uh, personality.



MB, for example, who doesn’t exude the same seductive maleness (he says “golly” in every other sentence), but who is a lovely human being. (Can he kiss, though? I still don't know. And does he wear pouch underwear?).



Dr. S., of course. We’ll have our third date soon. Maybe in ten years he’ll bust a move. Then, Mountain Man and Hotshot Lawyer Boy, who are still waiting in the wings. Lord only knows what kind of underwear they wear. Makes me tired to think about it.



But you know, there is an upside to this whole situation. I get to fall in love again someday. Before a life of diapers and mortgages, or before my heart gets decimated again, I get to experience the giddiness, the lust, the sex-every-night, the oh-my-God thrill you only get with someone new, the utter sense of well-being you get when it's all infatuation and no bitterness.



I'm sure there's good stuff after that too. With the diapers and mortagages. It's just that I wouldn't know.