Taking the suck with the awesome: Is this what being grown-up is like?

So 2007 marked the first time I officially celebrated Valentine’s Day with an “Other” (be he significant or not). I must say, I was pretty impressed with NRA’s overall effort and delivery. There were two dozen roses and chocolates and (three!?) cards and a lovely, delicious, romantic Italian dinner with candlelight and musicians, and a sweet dessert back at his place, complete with a white table cloth and candles and wine.

And, then, there were some not-so-impressive parts. Those parts were mainly on the days preceding and following the actual day. The night before, he lit into me about asking for a V-Day plan. I was merely talking about logistics, I tell you… I wanted to know if I was to drive to his place, where I would leave my vehicle, what time I should be there, etc. I can’t see how these are unreasonable questions. Although I’ve dutifully asked for the ability to teleport every year when I blow out my candles, I haven’t yet been blessed with the gift. So, unfortunately, there are times in life that require a bit of planning on my part. This* was one of those times. Apparently, NRA found the need for a plan unacceptable. At least that’s what it sounded like to me.

NRA: Just go home, pack a bag, put on something nicer than jeans, and I’ll pick you up.
Belle: Wait, we still haven’t figured out what time or how I’m getting to work or anything. I need some kind of plan.
NRA: If you want me to be the guy who says, “Be ready at 6” and shows up at 6 on the dot and has the whole evening planned out point by point… I’m never going to be that guy. I’m just not. If that’s what you’re looking for, it’s not me. You need to post some more ads or something.
Belle: Oh, I have your permission for that now?
NRA: You don’t need my permission for that. Do what you want. We’re not togeth… Never mind. I didn’t say it.
Belle: Right.

I didn’t even know how to take that. This is the same guy who was so insistent from the very beginning that I not date other people. Why would he say something like that to me? Did I deserve it for asking that we consider one evening’s logistics? I hardly think so. Roommate suggested I wait until after V-Day and do exactly as he said – post another ad. I mulled my options in a nice hot bubble bath.

The next morning, he woke me with a call wishing me a Happy Valentine’s. I spent the snow day lounging about and pampering myself. When I got ready and drove to his place,** I found his road hadn’t been plowed and a nasty buildup of snow and ice was blocking all the street parking. I called to tell him he’d have to park somewhere for me (yeah, this Southern girl can’t handle snow and ice… make all the fun you’d like). After waiting a full 10 minutes for him to “come right out,” I finally saw him appear. I was miffed all over again, but I tried to squash the bitterness in the hopes of not ruining the evening.

He brought me a dozen red roses and two cards. We parked my vehicle in a nearby lot so we could make our reservation, and he said he’d move it later. We had a nice dinner, only occasionally interrupted by me voicing complaints. I tried not to, but he just pressed me about things, and they came out. I told him he’d really hurt my feelings when he told me to post another ad the night before. He apologized profusely. *sigh* I’m getting kind of sick of all the apologies. When we first started dating and he apologized all the time but was being so sweet and great, I thought some bitch ex-girlfriend had him scared to do or say anything. At the time, it seemed like his habit of apologizing might’ve developed as a mechanism of preemptive self-defense. I’m beginning to think now that he’s always apologizing because he’s always fucking things up, which actually makes a lot more sense than my original theory.

Anyhow, the dinner was nice overall. Rather than move my vehicle when we reached it, he called the company responsible for towing that specific lot and talked to a woman who assured him they were too busy plowing streets and towing cars in emergency lanes to bother with someone parked in an empty Whole Foods lot. She even offered to take down his number in case someone called to have it towed. Off we went to his place, where candles and more roses (pink ones, this time) and chocolates and wine and cheesecake were waiting. Let’s just say the rest of the evening went well.

In the morning, things were a little less rosy. My truck had been towed. As a result, I was more than an hour late for work. NRA was irate about the situation, but I was just resigned. Shit happens sometimes, and this was one of those times.

The thing now is I’m questioning myself. I have been for a bit of time, obviously. The main question for the day is, how do I know if it’s time to cut him loose or if I’m just trying to avoid anything resembling a relationship because such things scare me? I do a fantastic job of dwelling on the negative, and that’s mostly what you get here (because it’s usually much more interesting than the good stuff, obviously). I try to sprinkle in some of the good stuff, too, but it nearly always takes second billing.

I think Roommate is sick of the whole saga and him. She’s the only one of my friends who has spent any time with him, and she’d been saying to keep him around only as long as I’m having fun. Now, she seems to just want me to tell him off and get rid of him for good.

Obviously, I’m still holding out on that one, which makes me ask a whole slew of questions…

- Should I dump him and move on, or am I just scared of seeing anything more come of this?

- What is keeping me from dropping him right now?

- Has he done anything recently to make him worthy of me?

- Why does the thought of dumping him without a significant event to point to make me feel bad?

- Should I be worrying this much about all this when we’re not quite three months in?

- Are the things I feel I need to talk to him about only going to increase in number and frequency as things progress?

- Again, are things progressing?

- Again, where in the hell are the friend intros?

* Factor in: Getting home from work on ice-covered roads, showering (and shaving), applying makeup, turning my messy mane into something fabulous, negotiating my way into this ridiculously difficult corset and garter thingy, picking an outfit, accessorizing, packing a bag that includes EVERYTHING I need to get ready for work the next day (which, by the way, NEVER happens), fussing with my hair some more, retouching my makeup, deciding on another outfit, re-accessorizing. See? See? I NEED to know how much time I’ve got to cram all this shit in.

** He insisted he wanted to pick me up, but, it being a ‘school night’ and all, it just didn’t work out that way.

*** These officially being the first flowers any guy has given me, if you exclude the flowers Roommate’s Boy Toy brought for me when he came to the house and the two flowers (one a carnation, one a rose with an embarrassingly sappy poem attached) left under my windshield wiper by two shy guys in high school.