Remember that time…

…I was about to go play Frisbee with the Canadian who I predicted would move back to Toronto lickedy split? Yeah. Well, we never played Frisbee. But we did other datey stuff, and guess what? He’s moving back to Canada. Tomorrow.

I hate always being right.

The good news is that I did not get so overly involved that my heart aches now. I’m almost relieved Canada is leaving, because truth be told, I’m still not really ready for…anything. Dating wise, that is. I don’t think. Maybe it was just Canada. I mean, he’s wonderful and endearing and a good kisser, but it’s hard to pull apart how much of me not “being ready” is just that, or maybe I just didn’t like like Canada, or maybe I did like like Canada but didn’t want to get involved with him because he was always leaving leaving. See how confusing it is? It’s not really, but the fact that it confuses me informs my understanding that no, I’m not ready to date anyone more than casually.

Of course, this won’t stop me from eventually going out with Midwestern Stock who is patiently waiting in the wings until I feel like making time for him. (My explanation to him for why now isn’t a good time to date was much nicer, though still pretty thin. But I’m at the point now where I just don’t care anymore, and if he’s cool with waiting, awesome. And if he’s not, awesome.)

Then there’s MusicMan, an eHarmony pick who I went on a date with two winters ago (and never called me back) and has since resurfaced due to the fact that my town is way too effing small. In a nutshell, MusicMan was out with friends of mine who got to talking about their friend who’s writing a dating book (me) when he realizes that he was a lab rat in my experiment. And just when I was wondering if I should email him to apologize for the lab-rat thing and explain he didn’t even make the cuts in the book because we only went out once and so not to worry, MusicMan emails to apologize TO ME for never calling. This is the same weekend I get the (hopefully) last email from Jeb, crazy stalker guy who I dated a year ago and broke up with me because he found out I was writing a book. He finally admitted to wanting a “do-over,” (how old are we? oh yeah, FORTY) and who I told to take a hike (I was not that nice) and who then emailed me back to recount all the ways in which I did him wrong by trying to write wonderful things about how much I liked him in a book. I wanted to forward him MusicMan’s email, who is now vying to get back into the book, and tell him to stop being a whiny bitch.

But I didn’t. I have better things to do. I don’t know what those things are (maybe finish said book so I can stop talking about it like it’s a fucking animated object in my life that’s the crux of every issue), but they are way better than scolding a FORTY year old man who acts like a whiny bitch. Oh, and I have this standing invite to Canada now too, so that could be a thing I do, eh?

Anyway, MusicMan and I are planning to “catch up” over drinks. I don’t know what this means. Is it a date? Is it really just catching up because we have all these mutual friends now? I dunno. Don’t know if I care. I remember being disappointed he didn’t call. And that he has nice forearms and hands. Wasn’t sure about the hair, but good profile. And wore Vans. Vans are good. Oh, and he plays classical guitar. And we all know man+guitar=hot.

OK – that’s the recap on the last month. I should mention that my true love affair is with pomegranate chip ice cream, which is not helping with the whole I-need-to-firm-up-my-ass-by-the-time-I’m-35 obsession I’m currently fixated on. 26 days left.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

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