I don’t hike unless there’s food at the top. Maybe a view, but it has to be spectacular, and if I don’t have my camera, then forget it. I’ll do the incline, work hard, but it has to be worth it. And as far as flat, medium terrain, fcuk that noise. I’m sorry, I suck at middle ground. I was once told by cab-headed-north-boy that I was like a stove burner; he knew how to fire me up with the turn of a knob. “You’ve got an on and an off, but otherwise, you’re uncontrollable. But then, I just realized, with you, that if I push the knob in further, I can really turn it up.” Not that kind of knob; this was not a seex talk. This is a Free To Be You And Me truism: boys are different from girls. And lately it’s been boys v. girls. Or at least all boys I meet v. me. I’m a black and white girl. I like things the way I like ‘em, and I want ‘em pronto. Snap snap. See, there’s this thing called gray. Have you heard about it? It’s the new black. I’m really trying hard to wear it, but I’m not sure if it suits me. Most boys prefer gray… at least to begin. Then they’ll commit to the black-tie or white ball girl. Commit, not like boyfriend girlfriend. Commit, like “Wow, I’m crazy about you so far, let’s spend much more time together so we learn about each other.” This ON characteristic of mine scares the crap out of grown men. Insert man clutching for his balls here. I’ve heard “you’re intimidating” more than once, despite my inviting smile. Intimidating because I know who the boys are and call them on it? Intimidating, maybe, because I know what I want and go for it? I just don’t get what makes me intimidating. I’m really not that hard. Alluring, not intimidating. But I guess that takes time to really learn. And time is what I totally suck at. I have no patience. And impatience hasn’t worked out too well for me. Making demands, having unrealistic expectations. I need to relax. Jesus. I’m hating myself today. I’m used to getting what I want by going after it, not sitting around relaxing. And when other people are involved that’s what you have to do. Relax. And we all know how I feel about relax. My problem is in going after what I want, I dive in head first, and am then left with a bump on my head because, in the end, the water was too shallow. Maybe the boys who go for my black and white antics, the ones who follow my lead and ask questions later, aren’t whole. Something must be missing if he’s so quick to adore you. Can that be? I’ll complain and be irritated when he prefers gray. It’s like preferring me with my hair straight. But when I find a guy who also puts on a swim cap and dives right in, I’m a little wary too. You don’t even know me. In love with the idea of love romantics. God love ‘em. They’re delicious, but they’re not loving you, not yet. Just the idea of you. People fall in love with ideas all the time. I’m a romantic, and it’s dangerous. It causes me to swoon over an idea of a person. I think I’m ready to rush into something with someone I don’t even know. I check my email too often with hope, hope for someone I don’t even know. I wonder why he hasn’t called and create some formula in my head. Well, if he did this, it means he likes me. It’s all crap. It’s not an equation. It happens over time, in a long, safe, friendship kind of way. When you find that, you’re onto something. I know what’s wrong with following your gut, diving in head first, when it feels so good. You wake up one day singing Talking Heads “Once in a Lifetime.” Well…How did I get here? How do I work this? Then decisions have to be made, you have to have “the talk.” Oh dear god, more drama. You cannonballed off the cliff, but now you’re hanging onto driftwood hoping to stay afloat. Not a good time. So we learn to love with handiwipes. I fcuking hate handiwipes, but I like being clean… and wouldn’t you know it, I look fcuking hot in gray.