Yes That's All There Is, by Doris

Back in November, Rock approached me about embarking on a dating odyssey and blogging about it. Little did I know this was a trick to get me to, you know, date.

And it worked. Rock, you are a coy bastard.

I'm not ending the six months with a boyfriend, or even a boy toy. But I am ending with a new freedom.

I haven't forgotten Excalibur. I still miss him sometimes. Maybe that will never fully go away.

I still don't know what will happen with Jim Berger. I'm attracted and he's fun, but he's also hot-and-cold and I'm not sure if it's worth the drama. As of now, it's still very much will-they-or-won't-they? And I'm okay with that.

I've been stood up. I've dated guys I shouldn't be dating. I've lusted after coworkers, had ex run-ins, drunk texts and awkward phone calls, and I still don't know whether finding The One will ever be a priority for me.

I've also found the freedom to openly write about my past, which had been an issue for me. And I've found my writing (both on this blog and in other outlets under my real name) has an honesty it's previously lacked.

So thank you. For reading, for commenting, for being in the dating trenches with Rock and me.

This morning on my Facebook feed, there was a quote from The L Word: "And as they say, men come and go, but your friends are forever."

With friends like Rock, I'll never be alone.

Be well, in love and in life.

Au revoir,

Doris

Welp, this is it..., by Rock

Here we are. Six months have flown by, and our experiment is over. I'm a little bummed that the "narrative flow" of our journals haven't ended up in giant revelations or last-act surprises reserved for fiction, but I look at everything that the two of us have learned and I'm satisfied nonetheless.

For the first time in my adult life, having a man is not a priority. Gone are weeks of having three first dates in the span of seven days, with the fear that if I wasn't out there, I would miss my Mr. Right. Gone are not-so-great connections where I'm afraid to end it because I need to be nice. I'm really at a point in my life where I'm focused on me, and it feels good.

Noah Wyle and I are still seeing each other. We're both extremely busy, we both need a small escape from our schedules which we find in each other, and because of our circumstances (I don't know where I'll be going to school, he doesn't know where he'll be doing his residency), there's a small detachment that I believe is on both of our parts and it feels safe. We don't have a label, I don't want a label, we haven't talked about a label, and that feels good.

But thanks for coming along for the ride and checking out our narcissistic self-analyzing. I wish you the best, I wish us the best. Peace out.

Plans, by Doris

We have plans, Jim Berger and I.

To go out in public and do something. Together.

I realize I should probably cut my losses. Get out while I still can. Go out to a bar and hit on bloated frat boys or douchey hipsters.

Every time I realize this, I get another cute email. Have another fun conversation about Henry Darger or living in France. Smile yet again at something funny one of us said. Have two more hours of drunk texts (happened again last night).

The invitation unfolded organically. We were emailing back and forth yesterday: he was at work, I was running around doing errands after dance class.

He mentioned wanting to see a show. I said I was planning on going, which was true, if he wanted to join.

His words: "I'm in."

It's not for three weeks. I fully realize he could flake out on me before then.

Because Jim Berger is kind of a flake. I realize this. I know I shouldn't invest a lot of emotion in something that will likely go nowhere.

However.

He is cute. He is easy to talk to. He is there. He is making difficult workdays easier, just by being himself.

And right now, that is good enough for me.

Drunk Texts Part Deux, by Doris

Went out with Rock and the boys on Sunday night. Weather was gorgeous and because of the holiday everyone was out. It was one of those nights where the conversation en route to bar #1 went like this:

Me: I think I'll just have one drink. Maybe two. I'm kinda tired.
Rock: Yeah, I have stuff to do tomorrow. I'll probably go home around 11:30 or midnight.
Me: If this were a TV show, it would cut to us dancing on tables at 2:30 a.m.

Yup. Out till 3.

At bar #2, a couple drinks and two shots in, I wasn't scrape-me-off-the-floor wasted (that came later), but drunk enough to type this out on my phone:

"Drunk text. Hi."

Guess who was the recipient? I'll give you a hint.

JB was at a winding-down barbecue and was also tanked. We proceeded to text for two hours, through getting a ride home from friends/procuring and eating a sub/watching Meet the Press (him) and imbibing more drinks and shots/dancing to Lady Gaga/stumbling to another bar (me).

All with proper spelling, capitalization and punctuation. Proving to me that at least one other person in this world gets more pretentious when they're wasted.

Here's the kicker:

At one point, JB suggested we grab a drink sometime.

I didn't hear from him yesterday and he's not at work today (as I knew he wouldn't be, because he told me on Friday).

I don't know if I should follow up on the drink invitation.

On the one hand, in vino veritas and all that. On the other hand, to paraphrase The Hangover, we all say dumb shit when we're fucked up. Or at least shit we don't mean.

And it's not like he said this out loud. It's in a text. Meaning he can go back and read our conversation, and pursue that opportunity if he wants to. (I didn't say yes or no at the time. Just proceeded with the texting.)

I think it'll be interesting to see how he acts around me tomorrow, and if he even acknowledges Sunday night. I'm not going to be too hard on him if he doesn't. Drunk happens.

Update Past Due, by Rock

My apologies if any of you were on pins and needles (I'm guessing no.). I've been in the process of setting some crazy huge life changes in motion and work has been scheduling me all sorts of hours. This blog had to take a temporary back seat to, well, life, not to sound too over dramatic.

What's been going on.

I've made the decision recently that I will probably be going to graduate school. Though I won't be entering for a while (still have to take the appropriate entrance exam and apply and we're talking fall of 2012), the need for a guy in my life has greatly diminished. I have other things to worry about, spend my money on, and though I would love to stay in this amazing city that I call home, there's a possibility I will have to move away for a few years for school, depending on where I get in. If I am lucky enough to stay here, I don't know if I will want the distraction of a guy in my life.

So where does that bring me? Noah Wyle. I've still been seeing him, though he's currently at home for a week and a half helping his mom recover from surgery. He's definitely the nicest guy I have ever dated, which for better or for worse is not my type. I honestly think we're good, not great together, and I don't know if we have long-term potential. If I were looking for forever, I would probably end it now.

But right now, he's in med school, I'm studying for an asshole test, it's really easy, and it's kind of nice. He's fully aware that I will be entering school who knows where. I'm fully aware he might get his residency in a few years who knows where. Good enough might be enough for right now.

Flipping the figurative coin back over, I don't know how fair that is to him, and I don't know how necessary it is for me to articulate that in order for it to continue. I think I can hold off until he brings up the "boyfriend" word, but we'll see.

So that's where I am on him. Operating firmly on the advice I love: "The only decision you have to make is if you want to see him one more time."

And yes, I saw 2.0 at a concert and yes, I freaked out. I was in line waiting to get in. He passed by with his head down, probably avoiding eye contact, which I happily avoided. I spent most of the concert looking around for him, wondering if a run-in would be cathartic or awful. But it didn't happen. I don't know why this guy bothers me so much.

Then there is EE#5. Still the only guy I was convinced I could spend the rest of my life with. I still am, which is why I need to get the FUCK over him. Saw a facebook status update of his, and it had me waxing poetic and being nostalgic all day. He's still on the west coast. I'm not sure if I'll ever see him again. I wish him well. But ouch. Why can't the hurt go away 100%? Clearly we're not meant to be.

Drunk Text, by Doris

I lied. This is another Jim Berger post (but a short one).

Three emails Friday afternoon and evening.

And then...

I woke up Saturday morning to find this on my phone:

"Drunk text. I do it sometimes too."

Properly spelled and capitalized. AND a callback to a few weeks ago when we exchanged numbers and I said I promised not to drunk text him, as I am wont to do.

A few hours later, I texted: "Coffee. Eggs. Water. Ibuprofen."

Right back at me: "Coffee. V-8. Work. Oy."

And I left it at that.

Don't worry, I'm still strong.

But because I'm all about being honest on the blog I will admit:

It made me smile just a little.

Game Over, Man, by Doris

Last Jim Berger post ever, I swear:

So it's been over a week and no response to my "should we schedule a time to hang out?" email. Yet he's "liked" most of my Facebook posts and of course we've seen each other at work.

If we were in junior high, I could maybe forgive this.

He's 36.

Then this morning, I had to get something from him for our boss. We had a really nice face-to-face conversation. Then he sent me an email. Not acknowledging last week or anything (even though it was the same email thread. Seriously). Just a message related to something we had just discussed.

It's settled: this is a work friendship and nothing more.

Note: I'm almost completely sure he is still hung up on his ex-girlfriend. It's her last day in the office, as she's accepted a position elsewhere. It'll be interesting to see whether he starts communicating with me more once she is gone.

His loss. We have a lot in common and could have had a really nice friendship or friends-with-benefits deal. Hell, I told Rock that I would have been Jim Berger's rebound, as long as he was honest about it.

However, I don't have the time or the energy to decode mixed messages.

All he had to do was respond to last week's email with a "you know, I'm really not comfortable hanging outside of the office right now," or even a noncommittal, "I'll check my schedule and get back to you" if he wanted to let me off easy. If he didn't want to email, there is texting. There is coming to my desk and saying, "can I talk to you for a second?"

But no. There was no response, and a week and a half later it's like it never happened.

Over.