How much is too much?
There's never a date, a second date, or a relationship that I'm in where I don't find myself asking that question.
About two months ago, I met the most fascinating man. He was handsome and self-deprecating. He was funny and insightful. He spoke Spanish.
Our first date was pretty...ad hoc. Yes, I use terms like 'ad hoc' now.
It was a quick phone call from him while I was out with a friend. It was after work, I was gross and I really did not want to go home with him that night. No, I'm not tooting my own penis horn. He asked.
But when that actually did happen, him taking me home, it was...explosive. It had been so long since I'd been with someone who was not only on the same wavelength as me, but was so much smarter. Which is surprising because finding someone smarter than me is not that difficult.
A dime a dozen.
It was during our little moment together that I let it slip.
Not a nipple. The truth.
"I think you should know that I'm nuts. Almost Fiona Apple nuts."
He did not get the Fiona Apple reference. Strike one!
A few nights later he got into this deep conversation with me which, at this point in a relationship, was not the kind of "deep" I was looking for.
"What are you warning me from, exactly?"
Of course, I said it was in the heat of the moment and I don't actually remember what I was referring to.
And of course, I was lying.
He was the most fascinating man that I had met since my last relationship. So I figured this might be something worth exploring. And so I dealt the first of my many cards that I was going to (eventually) lay on the table.
Suffice to say that was over before it began.
I want to say Fiona Apple ruined this for me. But if you don't know Fiona Apple, maybe you're just not ready for this crazy.
