The FB Dance

It's been a year since I dated anyone. Sure, I've been on dates, but intimacy (or even a second date, for that matter) hasn't hit my radar in 12 calendar months. So, well-meaning friends have stepped up to help with the suggestion that I take on an FB (some have even volunteered themselves). I've thought about it, of course; a year of celibacy will make one think about a lot of things. My issue, though, is that setting up an FB is about the same amount of work as setting up a person to date, so if I'm going through that dating ritual, why would I limit myself?

If I meet someone out in the world with the intention of becoming FBs, I still need time to "rev up." In other words, I'm not planning to jump into the sack with anyone right away. We still have to get to know each other and develop some kind of connection before the clothes come off. And then there's the whole rigamarole after we're naked: What do you like? What do I like? How do we fit together? It's exhausting just thinking about it!

What I would rather have is, as I'm calling it, a lease with an option to buy. There are no guarantees in life, and I can't know now where things will end up next week or next year, but why not keep that door open?

For me, there are only two ways an FB situation can work:

1. If one or both of us is married.
2. If we dated in the past and we're recycling. 

I've had FBs in both of those situations, and I'll be honest with you: the first doesn't feel all that good. Although I've never cheated on a partner, if he is, I don't feel good about that either. I have, however, recycled people from time to time, and that's pretty awesome. Even after years of not seeing an ex, when I visited the area where he lived, we were able to easily fall into old patterns—if only for the weekend. There were no expectations and no awkwardness because, although we cared for each other, there was no deep emotion to mess up the purely physical component.

In our casual, disposable society, few people seem willing to latch on for an adventure together, but they're more than willing to roll in the hay a bit. It's frustrating, and it's keeping me from enjoying the ups and downs a relationship can offer.

Loving in Tandem

While driving this morning, I spotted a couple on a tandem bicycle, and it struck me that a tandem bike is a bit of a metaphor for how we need to find that gentle balance in a relationship and work together to make things progress smoothly. When we do, they turn out great and the effort is minimal. Here are my thoughts:

• The man steers and takes the brunt of any obstacles in the way (dirt, etc.).
• Both people have to be giving equal—or at least close to equal—effort to make the bike move.
• They have to be balanced; if one is off, they'll fall over.

When things go smoothly, they can both enjoy the ride and point out to the other person sites they may have missed. It seems like perfect harmony to me. 

Cat & Mouse

It seems that the game of cat and mouse is one of the oldest, yet I'm just now starting to get the hang of it—at 41 years of age.

In my dating life, I have been the cat, wanting to be the mouse. But who wants to give up that much control and pine, wait, and whine for the cat to catch up with me? So I've turned the tables and pounced on the would-be cat, confusing both of us and reversing the logical order of things. Traditionally, it has more or less set up the eventual failure of the relationship.

At the moment, I am interested in a man in my life. He and I met as potential dating partners, but after discovering he was looking for an NSA FB situation, while I was searching for something more substantial, we chose to "agree to disagree" and become friends. The kicker is that, on paper, we're pretty perfect for each other. So he has continued to have an FB, I have continued to search for a dating partner, and we have spoken to each other regularly. But I have been the one making all of the calls.

Granted, he's always taken my call or been quick to get back to me, but who's doing the chasing? Yep, that's me meowing in the corner.

Not too long ago, this man let me know that men like to be on the prowl. They don't know what to do when a woman takes the lead. Hmm... was that a hint? Since then, I have not reached out to him. What happened, you ask? He started calling me! First it was every other week, but when I didn't respond, it turned into two times a week. I still haven't actually called him back; instead, I've sent texts to the effect of: "Hey. Doing xx. Catch you later."

Sure, it's a game, and I hate games. I would much rather call when I want to call, blah, blah, blah. Is this what dating has become?