Mr. Comfortable and the Uncomfortable Second Date

When you last left your hero (that's me!) she was contemplating the offer of a second date with Mr. Comfortable, fellow-user of the dating app Bumble.

And when I say I was offered a second date, I should say he had sent me one or two texts the next couple of days, having officially asked for my phone number so we could take our conversation over to real, actual texts. The actual difference? Only the intimate detail of my actual phone number, giving him the power to, well, call me if he so desired. I am forever grateful to my iPhone for taking the pressure off of giving a man my real phone number by allowing me the power to block him if his attention becomes unwanted. I think I can speak for all women (and many men) when I say ABOUT DAMN TIME.

Anyway, that tangent aside, he had sent me one or two texts, and then one evening, when he found out I was getting home from my work trip that night, he asked if I wanted to come over to his place so he could cook me dinner.

Bumbling Along With Mr. Comfortable

Here's the cold hard truth: Since last week, I've already written two full posts for this blog that I then chose not to share. The stories, you won't be surprised to know, are regarding my dating life of the past year and a half (i.e. since the last time I update Me & Mr. Right Now). But here's why this blog is difficult for me. Sometimes I'm not sure what to share. How much is too much personal information? When does a post cross the line from a relatable story into me gratuitously whining about how "Love done me wrong?" And also, the introspective question: At what point am I really ready to share some things? When does it stop being "too soon?"

Perhaps one day, when I feel more removed from those stories, I will share them, but for now, here's a summary:

Keep Looking for It

"I'm sure you hear this all the time, but it will happen when you're not looking for it."

Next person to say this to me gets spit in their eye.

The well-intended person, of course, means to be encouraging. Comforting, even. Failed relationships? Feeling lonely? Just got off a disappointing date? Once thought you'd be engaged by this age? All of these remarks lately, whether made humorously or not, have been met with the same pithy aphorism:

"Quit worrying about it and it will happen."

Yes, dear friend [or perfect stranger, as the case may be], how stupid of me to desire companionship. You're completely right. I should definitely flip the on/off switch for that.

…oh wait.