The two-day rule

I'm just not in the mood to play dating games. The weird, unwritten social etiquette suddenly feels totally superfluous. Either you hit it off or you don't. He treats you right or he doesn't. End of story. Call me intolerant or impatient. I just don't have the time or the attention span for guys who want to beat around the bush. Anyone who's been through relationship hell has been to the circus. You've seen the show and you know how it works. My capacity for tolerating bullshit is virtually nil. Step up or step out, capiche?

So I just don't care that the MFA guy waited 5 days before calling last night. My weekend was full before he called, so it will be fun to hang with him but my life wasn't depending on it. We're going to see a play at the ART on Saturday night. He gave away his level of interest when he slipped and told me he'd done research on the history of Carthage and Rome before he called. It was cute. And nerdy. Nerdy and cute.

Did I mention that he rows? I won't mention the cycling.

You know what they say about nerdy athletic guys. OK, neither do I, but I guess we'll find out.

Years ago, my mother gave me a copy of The Rules. I scoffed and threw it in a drawer, and mocked it at every opportunity. But somehow its twisted evil worked its way into my brain--through osmosis? If MFA guy had called tonight, I would have told him I was busy this weekend. It's a matter of self-respect. Yes, I am a walking contradiction, but isn't that a woman's prerogative? We're required to be mysterious, even to ourselves.