I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're not in love with me yet...

Dating. It continues to be something of a foreign concept to me. I remember when I was growing up, I would watch movies and TV shows where people would go on dates and I recall being very excited at the prospect that someday, when I was older, I too would be participating in this ritual. My brother and I had a "dress-up" box, filled with old Halloween costumes and thrift-store clothes that we would put on and parade around the house in when we were bored. I distinctly remember being around 9 or 10 years old and putting together an outfit consisting of a black miniskirt and a blue and black, sleeveless, zebra print shirt with a silver sequined belt over top (laugh it up, but this was the 80's and it was rad.) I told my parents this was what I intended to wear on my first date, to which my Dad replied "over my dead body." Turns out he didn't have to worry about that for a long time. Awkward adolescence hit me with a vengeance and between the 3 years of braces, the spiral perms I was so fond of, and a very unfortunate fashion-sense, the boys weren't exactly lining up around the block to ask me out. When my friends and I finally did start attracting the opposite sex in our mid-teens, actual "dates" continued to elude us because we inevitably went out with boys we already knew and who were part of our circle of friends. We would all hang out as a group at parties or at the park or at concerts, but there was rarely, if ever, one-on-one time spent doing anything except making out in the back of a car. I did not go on my first legitimate date until I was 22 years old and it was a total train wreck. For some reason, I took a liking to this friend of a co-worker, who seemed nice and who I thought was somewhat attractive, even though he was 46 years old. He took me out to dinner at an Italian restaurant, and before we had finished the first course, he had already proven to be A.) a complete racist B.) a complete moron C.) possibly the owner of a puppy mill. If only cell phones had been common then... I would have been texting everyone I knew to come get me the hell out of there. Since then, I have most often ended up with co-workers whom I already knew on a friendly basis, therefore making "getting to know you" dates unnecessary. Fast forward to present day and my most recent predicament. I'm at this Pub last week and I run into this unbelievably cute guy from the natural foods store, who I've had a crush on forever (see my previous blog entitled #1 Crush). I decide it's fate and that if I don't talk to him, I will regret it forever. So I go talk to him... and he ends up asking me for my number... and he calls me 2 days later... and we go out for a beer the next day... and we talk for hours and have a great time... or so I thought. I foolishly assumed he felt the same connection I did and that my wit and girlish charm would have him pining for the next moment he could spend with me. It's now been a full week and I have not heard from him. I find myself thoroughly confused and wondering if this is one of those "games" I always hear about. Or if, as the movie so eloquently put it, "he's just not that into me". Regardless, this experience has soured me a little toward dating. Why should I put myself out there and deal with this nonsense when I have 2 perfectly loving cats at home and a stack of books on my night-stand just waiting to be read? After all, there's no law that says you have to be old to be a spinster.