Not ready yet, I think....

So I think that I've demonstrated to myself that I'm really not emotionally able to deal appropriately with the menfolks yet.

After Michael died, I promised myself that I would not even think about a relationship for a full year.  And then coincidence happened... the water leak, and the guy who came with it, and the sheer novelty of someone being interested.  It made me really happy in that infatuated kind of way that is the best part of new things, where you feel a little giddy and a little silly and so on.  It was so great to feel that way after so very long, and to feel really attracted to someone.  So very many years since that's really been the case.

So he came here, and we drank wine, andI' the results were pretty inevitable, honestly.  No regrets there.  And I felt, again, so stupidly happy.  Dazed with happy.  We had the "I am not interested in anything serious" conversation.  I'm really not, not at all, and this person seems unlikely to be the person who would be the next serious person (if there is one).  When he got home, he texted me, and we talked about movies and music, and it all seemed nice.

But that was Sunday.  And I stayed dazed and happy through Wednesday afternoon... and then it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't heard from him.  So I texted him, after some debate, and he was busy but nice... but I thought that he'd text me tonight.  We have nothing planned for the weekend.  And all day I've felt nauseated and anxious.  It's nearly 8:30 now, and my expectation is that I won't hear from him.  I am fretting and unhappy and going over everything that he said in my head. 

I know that I'm being absurd.  This is about someone I don't even care about, who I'm just very physically attracted to.  Someone who is in no way a match for me.  Someone who basically I just want to spend a little more time playing around with.

It's his turn.  I'm writing this off for the moment.  I have dinner with Jack on Saturday... something I almost didn't even accept because I was fretting about this.  Whatever way this all turns out, it's clearly not worth the agitation and the unhappy bits.  It's too much like the bad parts of being a teen again.  I think it's time for me to be focusing more on going to the gym and less on other kinds of sport, because I've demonstrated to myself with crystal clarity that I can't handle it.

I am mad at myself for letting this bother me so much.  I think it's just that the happy felt so damn good for a little while, and I resent like hell that it seems to be gone.