Well, I’ve gone and made things really complicated for myself. Super complicated actually. I did that thing where I over-thought everything and kinda screwed things up. The time has come for me to lay it all down on the table and figure out what to do.
To start with The Director has deleted his POF account. Completely deleted it. “Deleted User”
I didn’t ask him to, he just did it. Apparently when I got drunk on the first, first date I told him he would only be taking me home if he didn’t fuck anyone else. I wouldn’t put up with that shit. Little Miss Sassy Pants paid off and got what she wanted. The Director is mine… for the time being at least.
At the same time, I hid my profile. I won’t delete it completely yet. I don’t know why. Maybe I should figure out the answer to that question? Just before that however, Plan B – the psychologist guy finally struck up the balls to ask me on a date. I accepted right before the second date with The Director and up until this point, we hadn’t actually finalised any terms. There had been a couple of misunderstandings but we were still chatting. In fact we’ve been chatting for almost a month now.
We have now finalised terms. The date is on Wednesday. It’s now Monday. I now need to make up my mind. Or do I?
This week will be date number three for The Director and I. I would feel like a total hypocrite if I told him to stop dating other women (which apparently I did) and actually go out on a date with Plan B. I guess that answers my question really. But it doesn’t.
Plan B has kept my interest for a while. He’s lost it and re-grabbed it again and we’ve had our fair share of misunderstandings. At one point he thought I had deleted his number after I restored my phone and things went awry… As they often do. He’s an interesting man. I enjoy our conversations. They haven’t really taken much of a flirty tone and I don’t really know if he’s ‘man enough’ to keep my interest for very long but he’s certainly intriguing. He’s bald though. You know I don’t really do bald guys. Despite that he’s actually pretty damn cute.
I know I need to meet him to figure out whether or not there is any zsa-zsa-zsu but what if I go on the date on Wednesday and we HAVE chemistry? That kinda fucks things up with The Director and I doesn’t it? What’s the point in putting a spanner in the works? I guess we might not have chemistry though. That would certainly make things easier for me. I don’t seem to be able to stop ‘playing’ with him. At least then I’d know and I can put a line under it all.
Waiting for a man is like waiting for a bus. You seem to wait forever for one to come along and then two of them come along at once.
You see we have a problem here. I really quite like The Director. Very much so in fact. But I can’t work out if I like him because I like him. Or if I like him because he reminds me so much of someone else… Because he reminds me so much of Jock.
They are so many similarities. The cars they drive, bikes, their employment history (to some extent), their lack of filter, their sense of humour, the way they think about life… Except The Director has his life together and Jock never did. And probably never would.
But what does this mean? Is this my ‘type’ – is that why they are so similar? Don’t I always go for men who remind me of other men I’ve dated? They’ve all had similarities in some way, shape or form haven’t they? I mean sometimes The Director even reminds me a little of One Ball… And my mother’s boyfriend – the fucking criminal. I just get this dangerous vibe from him sometimes. I don’t know what it is. I can’t put my finger on it. But the whole dangerous thing just makes him all the more attractive to me.
Maybe I’m just overthinking it as always? Tell Plan B that I’m no longer on the market. Maybe go with the, “I went on a date last night and it went really well and I don’t feel it would be fair to go on another one with someone else,” like The Ginger Gemini did to me. Fucker. I hated that. Maybe I won’t do that to Plan B. I do actually think he’s a decent guy.
I do like to make things tough on myself don’t I?