How A Full Moon & A Weird Email Can Mess You Up

Is it really the full moon, or am I just an overly sensitive, emotional heap of estrogen? That’s what I want to know. If I really had superpowers, I think mine would be Sensitivity To Body Language & Reading Way More Into Emails Than Is Necessary.

Last night, after a strange dinner party, I came home to a very confusing email. Two confusing emails. One, I received; the other I wrote. First though: the party. It was an awkward dinner party to discuss the possible local filming of a pilot for a PBS series. I was there to pitch my powers as a writer. I walked in and immediately my super powers kicked in. I registered looks, tics, nervous giggles, forced humor, and imagined that no one thought I could possibly write and maybe I was just there as the lead actor’s date (even though he’s married). I got over it though and I think I managed to convince people that my strength is as an emotional storyteller. I tried not to cry while saying it.

Then I came home to an email from the Man I Could Have Loved. He’s the one that said at any other time we would have a passionate love affair, but just now he’s decided to date someone else. And then let me know that he’d really been already dating her for almost a year. My heart? A trembling soft mess. We’ve emailed on occasion. And then the email last night. He misses me. He wants me back in his life. He’s hoping “we can we could get together occasionally and just... you know... talk.   Share.... whatever.” This is the sort of thing that sends me over the edge. Because…what is in between the words?  What nonverbal stuff is happening in those ellipses? What does this MEAN?

I hate feeling attracted to someone who is just plain no good for me. Bluh.

I told him, really, how can we be friends? Is he going to introduce me to his girlfriend? Have me over for a BBQ? Or would he like to meet in a dim restaurant in a corner booth, hunkered down. Listen, I am no secret.

So then I immediately wrote an email to someone I have been talking to for some time, someone I’m attracted to and, well, I don’t want to talk about that one. I think I blundered big time and ame off as just a little left of creepy. Why? Why isn’t there a send button that actually delays sending the email until you get control of yourself? Then again, why can’t you say what you really think of someone? Why does there have to be all this stuff under the surface? I’m interested in him. I’d like to know if he’s interested in me. Bluh again.

Suffice it to say, really maybe I should re-read that 1960’s dating manual. In fact, I think in my next blog I’m going to quote it and rewrite it for modern daters. Not that I’m an expert. Clearly, I have issues. Not Lex Luther issues of controlling the planet—just controlling my emotions long enough so that I don’t make a complete fool of myself.

I think in dating, there is far too much thinking, and talking, and wondering, and obsessing. What dating needs, what I need, is more kissing. Just good old-fashioned puckering up and….

Uhhh, I was going to say “puckering up and blowing” but that’s not exactly what I mean.

I mean, in short, that somebody better kiss me or my evil twin Thunder Woman is going to unleash some kick ass fireballs. (Or just sit in front of the TV and eat a giant bowl of ice cream followed by a chaser of chips.)