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.