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Archive for the ‘commitment-phobe’ Category

His words are not melting my heart

His words are not melting my heart

And I think I’m missing my “aww” gene.

Kyle is as sweet as he can be, but such flattering phrases seem to have no effect on me.

He whispered (yes, whispered!) this sweet nothing into my ear as we were falling asleep last night and while I should have been shrouded in bliss and cozy in his arms, I simply became clausterphobic and anxiety-ridden.  It was a sleepless night for Miss Charm.

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Olympic Love?

Olympic Love?

Last night was dinner with Kyle and our good friends Anne and George. While I always enjoy being in their company, I was pleasantly surprised how much fun I had last evening. Dinner was good (thank you DC Resaurant Week) and the company (especially my date) was even better.

I even shocked myself when invited Kyle over for to watch the Olympic coverage after dinner (imagine his surprise!). Typically I avoid such a bold move–especially in light of the birthday blowout week, where we have plans nearly every night. (Note, I did keep to my other rule about a new date a week, see “Immediate Disqualification?” for more.) But perhaps he’s growing on me? Or maybe the Olympics just makes me warm and fuzzy. 

Either way, it’s an interesting new development, but not one that has made me any less anxious about dinner with the parents and best friends this evening. Question of the day: Do I bring a gift?

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Now it seems that I’ve been invited to yet ANOTHER dinner tonight. And my presence is requested by Kyle’s father no less.  This brings up three very important questions:

1. Can one turn down a dinner invitation from a politician?

2. Should I break my other date (and rule of another date per week) to go?

3. What exactly to Kyle’s parents think we are?!?

Three dinners in three nights? I’m in over my head.

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Will blowing out this birthday candle mean lights out on "dating"?

Will blowing out this birthday candle mean lights out on "dating"?

I really don’t like birthday’s. Actually, I’ll rephrase that— I really don’t like birthday’s of those I’m dating.

They always seem to fall at inopportune times in the relationship. They are a push to DTR (define the relationship) or meet the family or some other nail-in-the-coffin of a budding romance.  Or, often as not, a birthday is a looming date by which a established relationship needs to end. I generally don’t like any of these parts of dating.

So, my apprehension of Kyle’s upcoming birthday is nagging, but I had been able to push it away. Afterall, we were still casually seeing one another. No need for elaborate birthday plans, right? WRONG.

This birthday is proving to be a major source of concern for Kyle because he is yet another year older and without a wife or children.  He shared with me last week that his five-year-plan is to have a wife and kid (cue the alarm bells in my head). His one-foot-in-the-grave-the-other-on-a-banana-peel outlook on getting older, is giving me the same feelings about potentially dating him. Unfortunately, the more distance I create, the more Kyle clings. 

My involvement in the week’s festivities already include:

Wednesday:  a dinner with a couple (mutual friends and the ones who set Kyle and I up in the first place).

Thursday: Dinner with Kyle’s mother and father (a well-known politician), Kyle’s best friend (ahem, groomsman) from college and his wife. (I guarantee there will be the awkward introduction, “Mom, Dad, please meet my uhh friend…”)

And now he wants to add drinks with his friends on Friday and a trip to his family farm for dinner on Saturday?

The dilemma remains: how do I keep my space and not offend the birthday boy?

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Tonight, I’m going on a date. But not with the guy I’m “dating” and I purposely planned it this way. (I’m not cold-hearted, just a bit of a commitment-phobe)

The guy I’m “dating”, lets call him Kyle, is good. He’s interesting, smart, observant and caring. But I fear he is getting the wrong impression of me–namely the impression that we are “dating exclusively”. (update: see Birthday blues for more on this faulty impression).

So, in an effort to clearly define my independence and encourage him to move a bit slower, I’ve decided to have at least one other date per week. Last week was Ed, a gentle giant (I swear he’s close to 7 feet tall). And this week is Jonathan–the PR flack. (Back story here, I met Jonathan last week at a PR party. He works at the same firm as my best friend. She doesn’t know we’re going out yet…)

The potential for this to blow up on me is pretty high, but greater risk comes with greater rewards, right?

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