This is not a particularly interesting post, but I’m puzzling over this and am sending it out to the intertubes for consideration.

I had a second date – if it is indeed a date – with Copper on Sunday night. He came over and we pretty much just laid around on the couch and watched TV. It was nice to be cuddled, nice to have someone to just hang out with at home, doing nothing. Chex Mix, beer and The Girls Next Door: it was a good way to spend a lazy Sunday.

Last night, Captain called me and we talked for about twenty minutes. The first three were nice and awkward, as they always seem to be with him, but we talked about books and history and other nerdy things for awhile, so we were both in our element and not so awkward anymore. Awkward returned when he tried to ask me out, and I do have to share it because it’s kind of cute.

Him: “So, I’m coming back into town this weekend.” (He is stationed about 100 miles from here.)

Me: “Oh, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a friend I have to pick up at the airport on Friday at like, 6:30.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“So, I don’t know, maybe after that we could, um, whatever.”

“You and your friend?” (This is my attempt at coyness.)

“No I meant you and me could, like, I don’t know…” He’s talking all stumbly which is kind of endearing.

“We could whatever?”

“Well, you know.”

“Hang out?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to.”

And so I have a date on Friday night with the Captain. For Saturday, I have plans to go to a winery with a friend who I know, just KNOW will invite along a certain fellow she’s been trying to get me to meet for months. Hooray wine, boo setup.

But I’m tired. Straight up tired, physically tired. None of this feels like it did when I first met the Ex-Fiance, or Tim, or E. I think I had it wrong when I wrote before about a “click,” because maybe that implies one of those all-of-a-sudden things that are really out of the ordinary. I don’t necessarily need that. But the warm fuzzy just-starting buzz isn’t there. The giggle-giggle-I-like-him feeling. The I-want-to- look-just-right-when-he-comes-over feeling.

Now it’s more of an I-don’t-even-need-to-shave-my-legs-since-I-don’t-want-anyone-rubbing- them feeling.

It’s not that I don’t like these guys. I think they’re both nice and I have a good time hanging out with them. I like the texts and phone calls. I like to be held. I like to be kissed. And while it’s probably too early to just call it with either one of these nice fellows, this “meh” feeling is kind of disconcerting. Dating is supposed to be fun, not meh… and it usually was before.

Today I wore my dance shoes to work because I knew I’d be on my feet and in dress clothes all day. I used to wear them when I was in theater, and I could stand or dance in them for hours in rehearsals. And this afternoon they gave me a whopper of a blister for the first time. First. Time. Ever.

So is it the boys or is it just me?